


in a world alone

by falsegoodnight



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Harry, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Curses, Dom/sub Undertones, Ex-Soldier Harry, Feminine Louis, First Love, Friends to Lovers, Innocent Louis, Jealousy, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Magic, Masturbation, Mentions of Animal Killing/Hunting (no actual scenes), Mpreg, Omega Louis, Pregnancy Kink, Prince Harry - Freeform, Rimming, Slow Burn, Swan Louis, but clothes have no gender, full smut tags in notes, mostly just Louis in Dresses, swan lake AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:06:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 51,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24635023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsegoodnight/pseuds/falsegoodnight
Summary: Harry’s breath catches as the glow grows bigger and bigger until he’s squinting his eyes and blinking at the sudden intense brightness. He closes his eyes, rubbing at them helplessly. When his eyes open again- he gasps, grip loosening on his bow as he gawks at the sight before him.Because the swan is gone.And in its place is the prettiest omega Harry has ever seen.-A Swan Lake AU
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 144
Kudos: 873





	in a world alone

**Author's Note:**

> full smut tags: top harry, bottom louis, tiny cock louis (typical of omegas in this world), masturbation, anal sex, anal fingering, knotting, rimming, loss of virginity, minor virginity kink, unsafe sex, manhandling, and minor pregnancy kink. This smut is a lot sweeter than i’ve written in the past. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: the mpreg is really not a big part of the story!
> 
> Orciela (based on 'or' = gold and 'ciel' = sky, aka Gold Sky) is a made up kingdom but it is heavily based off of France (and a bit of Britain) as hinted. English is spoken predominantly but some French is spoken among villagers especially. I don’t want to use an actual country and end up misrepresenting it- also this NOT meant to be historically accurate. The use of French in this fic is mainly for ambience. This is also set in a historical setting- vaguely late 1800s so no technology but there are cameras, newspapers, etcetera. Worldbuilding here is vague and that is intentional. 
> 
> For some elaboration on the aspect of sexism and gender roles- sexism is definitely common in this kingdom especially in the more rural towns and the status quo is that omegas and women (basically all people who can be impregnated) are less in worth than men/non-omegas. This follows the typical a/b/o traditional social classes of alphas > betas > omegas. Obviously, it’s completely opposed by the main characters in this fic and in no way, shape, or form represents my feelings about the topic and sexism in general. 
> 
> I’d also like to clarify that I have NOTHING against arranged marriages. My grandparents who are very happy together had an arranged marriage. I know it gets a really twisted or bad rep and that’s not what I want to portray it as at all. Harry is against the idea but that’s his personal opinion- it’s not for everyone and in this case, it’s not for Harry. But that doesn’t mean it’s all bad! It’s an important part of so many cultures so please respect that :)
> 
> And for those of you who are familiar with the plot of the ballet (which I modelled this after more than the movie), while this story follows somewhat the same plot (except this one is a lot more drawn out for the sake of development), I refuse to kill off my characters so you don’t have to worry about that!
> 
> Another maybe-important thing to mention is that the other boys aren’t in this as much which I’m not going to apologize for because it just didn’t happen and it wasn’t intentional but that’s how it turned out. 
> 
> Most importantly, the prompt that inspired this fic is from an unchosen prompt from the 2019 Bottom Louis Fic Fest (a collection you can find [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Bottom_Louis_Fic_Fest_2019)) and it’s prompt #9: Swan princess au with Louis as Odette. 
> 
> I have absolutely no idea who requested this prompt, but whoever it is- this story is dedicated to you and if you ever come across it, i really hope you like it even though I chose to model it more after the ballet than the movie :)
> 
> Thank you to Jem @cheershalo everywhere) and Sarah (@soldouthaz everywhere) for beta-reading this work and for always being supportive (especially Sarah who literally went to Best Buy because her laptop broke down and she wanted to finish her edits in time for me- this is why I call her a saint!). And of course, thank you to Emma (@moonyblouie everywhere) for checking and correcting my use of French (my favorite French expert!) and for also being so sweet and supportive <3

-

**Prologue:**

The knock came at ten in the morning. Louis had been helping his mother fold laundry while the twins played dolls nearby, giggling and shrieking in glee. Charlotte and Felicite were sweeping the kitchen but Louis knew they were slacking off since Jay was distracted. She’d been chattering to Louis about the latest town gossip and Louis had been listening amusedly. 

None of them expected a visitor but Jay ushered him to go answer the door, so he did.. A small _creak_ from the rusty hinges rings through the air as Louis opens the door and blinks in shock. 

Monsieur Von Rothbart. 

He stumbles back a little, taken off guard at the presence of this particular man. He’s tall and slender with silver white hair, gaunt pale skin and glinting, sharp eyes that follow every one of your movements. He lives on the corner of the street and talks to no one. Whenever Louis and his friends pass his house, they walk quickly- keeping their gazes fixed ahead and lips pressed closed. 

Not much is known about the alpha, other than he had been living in the same house for decades, he always dressed in black, and he had a son who visited once a month- an omega just a tad older than Louis and whom neighbors often expressed as having features that blurred on your mind until you were unable to describe or remember his appearance. 

Despite the lack of information, years and years of rumors and suspicions have accumulated in their minds a deep fear for the mysterious man who had always watched and never spoke. 

Louis stands frozen, mouth agape. Bewilderment courses through him as Rothbart assesses him coldly but boldly. The eerie scent of jasmine and spearmint permeates around them. Louis resists the urge to shudder and instead inhales through his mouth. Rothbart’s mouth is flattened into a grim line and his charcoal eyes are dark and intimidating as ever. _But why is he here?_

At the Tomlinson’s house on a Saturday morning. 

“Good morning.” It takes Louis a second to process that the deep, haunting timbre had been elicited by Rothbart and is not a product of his panicking brain. He speaks lowly, _deliberately_ , his tone grazing Louis’ insides like nails dragging across a chalkboard. 

“Good morning, Monsieur,” he replies dutifully, keeping his tone polite and agreeable. He quells the urge to shudder, feeling the prickly weight of Rothbart’s attention rest on him like a layer of darkness. “Can we help you with anything, sir?”

Rothbart doesn’t reply immediately, continuing to stare at Louis intensely. It is unfortunately not an unfamiliar feeling, because while Louis and his friends had been ducking their heads and scurrying past the man’s gloomy abode for months, Rothbart had always been there, watching silently from his front porch where he spent many an evening. 

And whenever they walked past, Louis would feel the weight of his leering gaze traipse over them before lingering onto him specifically until he was huddling closer to Zayn and Perrie and forcing himself to breathe cold air through his nostrils as he bit his bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. 

It’s the same weight resting on him now as Rothboart clears his throat. “You look lovely today, petit cygne.”

Louis’ insides twist and he flinches in revulsion. Little swan. It’s what his mother calls him and sometimes his friends when commenting on his delicate nature. 

It’s not something a stranger should call him, especially not Rothbart. He shifts uneasily, clearing his throat. “Merci, Monsieur,” he says quietly. 

Rothbart steps closer. “I have come to make a proposition to the man of the house.” 

Louis bites his lip, apprehension running through his veins. He’s beginning to get the feeling he knows what Rothbart is doing here and he’s terrified. “Mon père- my father… he doesn’t live here,” says Louis quietly. He had been gone since the twins’ birth and Louis had stepped up in his place, helping raise his younger siblings as a nurturer alongside his wonderful, but overworked mother. 

Rothboart raises an eyebrow, looking interested. “I see.”

He swallows thickly. “I can call my mother.”

Rothbart nods slowly. Louis steps back slowly, arms hanging limply at his sides as he keeps his eyes locked onto the man in terror. His heart is racing and he’s near convinced he knows what Rothbart will ask his mother. 

Jay is already waiting at the end of the hallway, a concerned frown curving her lips downward. “Is everything alright, darling?”

Louis resists the overwhelming urge to barrel into her arms, pressing his quickly forming tears into the soft fabric of her dress. He clears his throat, blinking away the wetness. “Monsieur Von Rothbart is here to ask you something,” he says flatly, a little bit of his fear seeping through. 

His mother’s mouth falls open a little, panic bleeding onto her features. They stare at each other, both of them realizing the other knows what’s happening. Jay walks past him slowly, reaching out a hand to grip him by the shoulder gently but firmly. Louis follows meekly, scared. 

A proposal. Rothbart is going to ask for his hand in marriage- he knows it. His mother knows it too. There’s a reason the neighbors have been gossiping about Rothbart taking a new omega after his old wife had passed away a decade before. There’s a reason Rothbart’s been paying particular attention to Louis and no one else. There’s a reason Louis found a bouquet calla lillies on their porch the day before, white flowers that are commonly used for proposals in their village. There’s a reason he called Louis a term of endearment inappropriately. 

And Louis is terrified. 

He knows how things work in their town. Everything is based on gender. Male alphas have the most power and omegas have the least. If a male alpha proposes to you, you’re supposed to accept. That’s the way things are in a society where your ability to have children dictates your worth and abilities. 

He knows if he refuses this proposal, his family could potentially be ruined. 

He also knows Rothbart is relatively wealthy. And he knows his mother’s job as a midwife only pays so much especially when so many couples refuse to work with a single mother who willingly raises her five children by herself with nothing but her own hard work and kindness, as well as assistance from her eldest son and daughter. 

He also knows that as that eldest son, he is the best hope for their family. He understands that accepting this proposition has the potential to relieve his family whom he loves more than anything in the world of all the stress and pain and suffering they’ve endured for so long. 

As if reading his mind, his mother’s grip tightens on his arm, stilling him. They’re less than ten feet from the front door, obscured from Rothbart’s view by the half-closed door. Jay turns him gently so they’re staring at each other. Her eyes sharpen. “Mon ange, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Her voice is low but deliberate. 

Louis’ eyes burn. “But what if it saves us?” he whispers, quivering. 

Jay shakes her head softly. “Nothing that will bring you misery can truly save us, petit cygne.”

He swallows shakily. “But-”

“No, you’re my son,” says Jay fiercely. “I will never willingly let you give up love for me.”

Louis shakes his head. She doesn’t understand that Louis would gladly give up his chance at love to save his family. There’s nothing in the world he cares about more. “Where am I going to find love in this town?” he asks sadly. 

It is a valid concern. Every alpha Louis’ age in town is already married except Greg from two doors down (Louis harbors a deep resentment to the fellow who smacked him on the arse last time he saw him). It’s considered foolish to be single at his belated age of 20 but Louis couldn’t help it- he’s too busy with other things to focus on attracting suitors. 

“This will help us,” he emphasizes when Jay’s face doesn’t change. 

His mother shakes her head. “I don’t trust him darling.”

“Neither do I,” admits Louis quietly. He doesn’t like the way Rothbart looks at him, nor the way he seems to hold this air of superiority and dismissal about him constantly. He’s afraid it won’t be much different behind closed doors. 

And then of course, there’s the part where Louis is decades younger in age, younger than his son even!

“If he hurt you, I’d never forgive myself,” says Jay quietly. “I will never force you to do anything, but please don’t. I don’t care if it’ll be easier. I don’t want you to leave me either.”

“I never want to leave you either,” says Louis seriously. He bites his lip, glancing at the door. Carefully, he places his hand over his mother’s and presses down. His voice is lowered to a murmur when he says, “I won’t do it.”

His mother’s sigh is one filled with relief and happiness. She squeezes his shoulder again before pressing a kiss to his temple. “Come, I will send him away.”

They walk together to the door, bridging the final steps between his home and his one potential future. Louis intertwines their hands desperately as Jay opens the door again. Rothbart hasn’t moved since Louis left to fetch Jay. He still stands rigidly, mouth pursed in a straight line and eyes dark and cold. 

“Bonjour, Monsieur,” Jay says kindly. She smiles but only Louis can recognize the strain in her expression. 

“Bonjour, Madame,” Rothbart greets. He gestures slowly to Louis. “I think you know why I am here.” It’s blunt yet vague, exactly like the typical proposition in their small town. Louis had long ago given up his dreams of a bold and beautiful proposal with lots of fanfare. He won’t get that here. He’ll probably end up married to someone he likes but doesn’t _love_ and they’ll live together and Louis will bear children and they’ll grow old together, happy or not. 

He just hopes that it’s not with this man. 

Jay’s smile has grown more rigid during the tense silence. “Oui, Monsieur, but I am sorry. Louis is not accepting suitors right now.”

Rothbart frowns, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Oh?”

“We need him here,” Jay says, squeezing Louis’ shoulder yet again. Louis concentrates on the feeling, letting it ground him especially when Rothbart turns his menacing stare onto him. He resists the urge to flinch. 

“He won’t be too far,” Rothbart counters, eyeing them stiffly. “And I can always hire you a maid.”

Louis grimaces. It seems Rothbart isn’t going to give up that easily. 

“We thank you for your consideration,” Jay continues sweetly, "but Louis and I will not accept.”

Rothbart returns to gazing at Louis with an unreadable expression on his face. “You will not accept even to save your family?”

Louis glances at his mother who gives him an encouraging look. “Non, et je vous prie de m’en excuser, Monsieur.”

The man stands frozen for a moment, clearly surprised. “I see,” he says lowly. His eyes harden further. “I will ask you to think on it further and consider the full implications of what you are doing.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Louis denies quickly, confidence rising in him. He refuses to allow this game to drag on too long, especially since the idea of talking to Rothbart again makes him nauseous. 

Rothbart hums his acknowledgement, eyes flashing. “So it seems.” It’s almost like he’s grown a few inches within seconds, looming over Louis and Jay threateningly. 

_He is just a man_ , Louis reminds himself carefully. But at this moment, no monster in the world could scare him more. 

“Bonne journée,” says Jay hastily, pasting on another strained smile. 

“De même,” says Rothbart coldly. He sends Louis one last sinister glance before turning on the porch. He barely takes one step by the time Jay shuts the door quickly. Louis slumps in relief, close to tears. 

“Thank you, Maman,” he says sadly. Jay just pulls him into a hug. He buries his face into her neck and breathes in her familiar perfume. “I love you,” he murmurs. 

“I love you more, petit cygne.”

Louis squeezes his eyes shut in pain. The term of endearment sounds so different elicited lovingly from the mouth of his mother. “I never want to get married if it means leaving you and the girls,” he says fiercely. 

“Oh, darling,” Jay coos, pulling away reluctantly. Her eyes are sorrowful. “I wish you would fall in love and be with someone who treats you like an equal. Someone who appreciates your wisdom and kindness.”

Louis sighs. “That’s not going to happen.” No matter how much Louis yearns for it in the comfort and isolation of his bed. He craves the love and romance he reads about in stories but he’s also unfailingly practical. He knows it’s not in the cards for him, yet he can still dream.

His mother shakes her head. “You deserve love darling, and you should only marry someone you truly love.” 

They don’t bring up the obvious- something the neighbors won’t ever let them forget. Louis’ mother married for love and look where she ended up. A single mother raising five kids by herself. Scorn and judgement are poured over them constantly. 

None of them understand that even though Jay is single and ridden with work, she is _happy_. 

That is something their neighbors or the ladies of the town cannot relate to. 

“Maman, Lottie’s pinching me!” Felicite shrieks from the kitchen and Jay sighs. Louis smiles despite himself. 

“Les mômes,” his mother mutters exasperatedly. They exchange weary looks before going to break up the inevitable fight. 

-

“Oh my god,” Perrie says when Louis has finished telling her the story, horror stretching her lips. “I can’t believe he proposed to you and he’s, like, thirty-five years older than you.”

Louis shivers. “You know it doesn’t matter how old a man is as long as the omega is legal.” 

“Well still, thank god you said no,” Perrie says, shaking her head.

“Gods know what he would have done to you,” Leigh-Anne adds, looking distressed as she continues braiding Jade’s hair with shaking fingers. 

“Don’t even talk about it,” Zayn scolds, wearing a scowl. He’s sitting right next to Louis which puts him in prime position to wrap his arms around him. Louis sinks into the embrace and relaxes a tad. “You’re okay Lou,” he soothes. 

Louis shuts his eyes, willing the sudden burning to go away. He can’t cry again. He had already cried once in bed after lunch while his mother and the girls went on a walk to the park and his eyes were still puffy and droopy. 

“There’s no hope for true love in this village,” Leigh-Anne laments with a sigh. 

“That’s not true,” Perrie denies, a soft smile curving her lips. 

“Easy for you to say, Madame-already-engaged,” Jade retorts bitterly. “You found the one good guy in the village.”

 _“Hey,”_ Zayn says, affronted. 

“One good alpha,” Jade corrects, rolling her eyes. Jade, like Louis and Zayn, is an omega, while Perrie, Leigh-Anne, and Jesy are all betas. But one thing they all have an common is that they're considered lesser to the alphas of the village. 

“Perrie’s the lucky one,” Jesy grimaces. “My parents are already ashamed that I refused Thomas’ proposal and now he’s getting married to Mara. How _tragic_ that I’m 20 and unmarried.” She scoffs. 

Louis smiles despite himself because he’s not the only labelled disgrace in their town. That’s one of the reasons he became friends with the girls in the first place.- Zayn, on the other hand, had been friends with him since they were babies. - all of them refused to be married off to someone like cattle being sold at an auction. They're all 19 or 20, which is above the desired matching age for omegas and betas (18 years old, as in the official ‘of age’) which means certain people think they’re beneath them. 

They’ve been stamped as outcasts which made them all the more eager to stick together. Louis can never fully articulate just how grateful and appreciative he is of these four wonderful people. 

“Once again, the conversation has become depressing,” Zayn notes casually. 

“You say as if you aren’t the one who instigates most of the cynicism in this group,” Perrie mutters. They trade scowls. 

“Let’s go to the lake,” Jesy suggests, clearly trying to diffuse the tension. They all love each other but it’s inevitable with a group of such different individuals that some of them will clash occasionally. 

“Are you sure?” asks Perrie. “It’ll be dark soon and we’ll have to walk back.”

“We won’t stay too long,” Jesy says. Even though his eyes are closed, Louis knows they’re looking at him now, waiting for his opinion. 

His eyes flutter open slowly. “Let’s go,” he says immediately. He’s desperate for a distraction- a fun and joyful distraction. Visiting their secret spot at the lake seems to be the perfect candidate for the job. They found the little hollow nearly a year ago, hidden in a thick grove of trees and containing a smaller, more shallow pool of water that was semi-separated from the main lake. It’s gorgeous and Louis always feels better when he and the others visit. 

Zayn seems more hesitant. “Are you sure about this?”

“C’mon, Zayn, there’s six of us,” Jade says impatiently. “We’ve got each others’ backs.”

“Nothing bad will happen,” Perrie insists, swatting at Zayn’s shoulder when he continues to wear his dubious frown. “You worry too much.”

“Well, excuse me for being concerned especially when Louis just rejected Monsieur Rothbart's proposal,” Zayn hisses. "You _know_ the rumors." 

Louis raises an eyebrow and Perrie cackles. 

“You don’t actually believe those stories, do you? Sorcery and _sorcerers_ doesn’t exist,” Perrie giggles. “Yeah he’s creepy, but he’s not going to hex Louis.”

And even though he's never believed in such nonsense, the thought still has his stomach twisting. He grimaces, the look being noticed by Jesy. 

“Now you’re freaking Lou out," she complains. "Just forget it, Zayn.”

Zayn huffs. “There’s too many coincidences and anecdotes for it not to be real.”

Leigh-Anne shakes her head. “We are not arguing about this right now. We’re going to the lake, that is _final_.”

“Yes!” Perrie exclaims, standing up. 

“It’s going to be fun,” Jade reassures as Leigh-Anne finishes off her braid. They both stand up too, followed by Jesy. Louis gets up too and then they’re all staring at Zayn who’s crossing his arms and frowning. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he declares. 

Leigh-Anne rolls her eyes. “You have a bad feeling about _everything_.”

“I’m reasonably skeptical,” Zayn defends. 

“We’re going anyway,” Jade says with a smirk. “And you can come or you can stay here and be bored.”

Zayn grunts unhappily. “I’m not going. I don’t think this is a good idea, and plus Maman needs my help with gardening.”

Louis thinks of his own little garden. Spring will be arriving in a month or so and soon he’ll be seeing his flowers bloom. He also has vegetables and fruits growing for the summer and fall. It’s a project he’s been working on with his mother for the past few months and he loves spending time out front, barefoot and in a world of his own. Zayn doesn’t have the same love for the task. 

“Have fun with that and say hi to your mum for us,” says Jade. Zayn nods. He pats Louis’ shoulder. 

“Bye, Lou. Stay safe, okay?” he says, still sounding worried. 

“I’ll be fine,” he promises.

They say their goodbyes and Zayn heads home. Louis lets Perrie sling an arm around his shoulders as they take off. The air is cool and balmy, the sound of the girls giggling about the mischief his sisters got into that morning is comforting, and the sun is casting a warm orange glow over the area. 

He takes a deep breath. 

_Everything is going to be okay_ , he thinks. He almost believes it. 

-

They end up spending a lot longer than anticipated, dipping their bare toes in the cool waters, flinging handfuls at each other until their clothes are drenched, and laughing into the open air under the glow of the setting sun. The weight that’s been crushing Louis’ insides subsides until he can breathe freely again. The others are relieved by his improvement, letting their guards down almost unconsciously. 

By the time they stumble back onto the main path, cutting through the secret, hidden entrance underneath a canopy of willow trees, the sun is close to setting. 

They’re about twenty minutes from the village but they take their time, linking arms and leaning into each other. Louis walks with his eyes closed, Perrie and Leigh-Anne on either side of him. The air around them smells of perfume and his and Jade’s natural scents. It’s comforting. 

He hums a song under his breath, eyebrows wrinkling in confusion when the girls come to an abrupt halt. “What…” his voice trails off as he squints his eyes open. A familiar dark scent of jasmine and spearmint filters into his nose. He gasps. 

The entrance to the village square is less than twenty meters away but standing in between them and the familiar arched entrance is a cloaked figure. 

Louis sees the familiar cane topped with a purple amethyst and freezes. 

Rothbart. 

Perrie’s grip on his arm tightens. “Walk slowly,” she whispers. 

Louis swallows thickly, terror rising in him as the six of them slowly start walking again. Everything is completely silent. Louis ducks his head, keeping his vision downcast as they get closer and closer. 

His heart hammers in his chest almost painfully and he internally winces at every small thump created as his boots scrape against the ground. 

Leigh-Anne sucks in a breath as they pass Rothbart and Louis holds his own, close to praying as they inch past the motionless figure. 

For a second, it seems like they’ve passed successfully and that Rothbart isn’t actually going to do anything, but then-

“Petit cygne.” All six of them still right away. Louis shudders at the dark tone. None of them turn around but he can practically feel Rothbart as he rotates to stare at their backs. Panic bubbles up in him. Everyone’s asleep right now which means no one would hear if they called for help. 

He contemplates the odds of outrunning the man. Even though Rothbart appears old and wan, there’s something about him that has Louis thinking it wouldn’t be so easy. 

A loud _thump_ disrupts his thoughts. Louis flinches. The cane. 

“Petit cygne,” Rothbart repeats, almost threateningly. “What are you doing out so late?”

Perrie turns around first. “Excusez-nous, Monsieur,” she says politely, voice slightly strained. “We’re going home.”

Slowly, Louis turns around too, keeping his eyes lowered cautiously. 

He can feel Rothbart’s stare linger on him menacingly. “It’s dangerous to be out so late… anything could happen,” he muses. 

Louis shivers. Beside him, his friends have gone silent in fear. 

Rothbart takes one deliberate step closer to them. “I’m only out because I’ve been taking a walk, thinking of something that happened earlier today. It’s kind of funny really, I had been _rejected_ by a young omega. Isn’t that ridiculous?” 

Trembling, Louis' mind hastens for a quick end to this conversation - an _escape._

“He’s very beautiful,” Rothbart continues, oblivious to their dread and anxiety, "if a bit naive. I have admired his delicate features for many years.”

 _Years_. Bile rises in his throat. 

“We have to run,” Perrie murmurs, under her breath. Rothbart takes another step closer. 

“But I never knew what he was hiding,” Rothbart says remorsefully. Louis stiffens. “All along I’ve been calling him petit cygne but really he’s une petite putain.” 

Louis’ mouth drops open in shock and humiliation. 

Jesy takes a step forward. “Don’t call him that,” she snaps, jaw locked and limbs tensed.

The man doesn’t react. Louis chances a look at him and their eyes meet. Rothbart’s are completely emotionless and hard. Louis falters, breath whooshing out of him in a wave. Then… Rothbart raises his cane. “It’s such a shame you said no,” he says sadly. His frown twists into a strange curve of lips. “Such a shame. Thankfully, I am nothing but generous.” 

“What are you doing?” asks Leigh-Anne, clinging to Louis’ arm almost painfully. 

Rothbart smiles sickeningly. “Fixing him.” Then he lowers the cane and it hits the ground with a loud _crack,_ reverberating through the air and flinging Louis off his feet. 

He opens his mouth to scream but nothing comes out but a shallow gasp. He hits the ground and lands painfully on his arm. The world spins around him and everything goes dim. The last thing he’s aware of is the sound of his friends screaming. 

-

**_2 years later_ **

“To his royal highness!” Niall roars, raising his glass enthusiastically, jostling the liquid inside. 

An echo of cheers follows and Harry grins, raising his own glass. They drink and Harry savors the burn of the liquid as it slides down his throat. He hasn’t had alcohol in so long and he’s forgotten the satisfaction that it brings, warmth buzzing in his ears and throat. The new imported tequila that the nobles have been getting their hands on is _exquisite._

“Twenty-two years old, an old man!” Allen hollers from down the table and Harry shoots him a look, feigning annoyance. 

“Happy Birthday,” Niall wishes him quieter this time, reaching out from his spot at Harry’s right side - a spot usually reserved for nobles and _alphas,_ but Niall in all his kitchen-hand and _beta_ glory fits right in - to squeeze his shoulder. Harry’s grin widens. 

“Thanks, Niall,” he says. “Thanks for the pastries too, they were divine.” Niall smiles proudly. 

The chatter picks up again and Harry gladly leans back, not bothering in participating and instead, observing contentedly. 

He can’t help but smile as he takes in the faces of some of his closest and oldest friends, most of which he hasn’t seen in years. Niall is one of them. The last time Harry saw him, he was a gangly, slightly awkward eighteen year old who was nervous about going off to serve his time in the military for the next four years as is the way for all male heirs. 

Niall had clapped him on the back and kissed his cheek sloppily, promising Harry that he’d come back safe and intact and more importantly, _ripped._

He wasn’t wrong about any of it. 

Then there’s Allen, Nathan, Francis, Devin, Richard (unfortunately), and Liam Payne. 

Liam is the one person at the table who had been present in service with Harry for the past few years. They’ve known each other since they were tots but Harry didn’t actually get the chance to befriend the man until they were made roommates at the barracks. 

As it turns out, Liam is a lot less stuck up and insufferable than Harry had always thought. And according to Liam, Harry is a lot less cocky and immature than _he_ thought. First impressions aren’t always accurate, he supposes. Especially considering Liam might be the one he’s closest with in the entire room. 

Niall, of course, he had been really close with before he left for the army. And most of the other boys he’s known for years as well. But while they’re all nice and enjoyable to be around, they don’t actually know each other that well. They’re friends because their families run in the same circles. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just the truth. 

And Harry can honestly say they get on his nerves sometimes. All of them privileged alphas like himself, except they don’t seem to acknowledge or realize it most times. 

But Liam- Liam’s a bit more like him and Harry really appreciates that. 

As if sensing that Harry’s looking at him, Liam meets his eyes and raises an eyebrow questioningly. Harry shakes his head, smiling. Then Liam raises his half-empty glass towards him, tipping it in a toast. 

Harry rolls his eyes, taking another sip of his drink. 

He ends up getting roped into a conversation with Francis about his time at the base and whether he “messed around” with anyone. 

“You know I can’t do that,” he says defensively. “Remember what happened last time?”

The memory sits heavy in his mind even four years later. It had been the son of a visiting duke, soft features and eyes like slate. They fell into bed together, fumbling hands and muffled giggles. They were newly adults, young and carefree and naive and ridiculously infatuated with each other. It was one night. By the time the sun rose in the sky again, they woke up to thousands of attacks and stories in the media as well as angry parents and publicists. 

It hadn’t seemed like a big deal to sleep together, even if neither of them were in a situation where they could pursue something. They were both _so_ sure no one would find out, but they did. To this day, Harry still isn't sure who sold them out. One of the guards? A maid? It doesn't matter either way, because _someone_ told and they paid the price. 

It was the first time Harry realized his life no longer belonged to himself. 

The first, but certainly not the last. 

Francis shakes his head. “Bummer, mate. I can’t imagine how rough it must be for everyone to be in your business.”

Before Harry can respond, Richard interrupts. “Oh yeah, boo-hoo. Prince Harry has no privacy in his ginormous castle and all the love and attention he wants.” 

Harry glowers, his irritation beginning to bubble up into hot anger. He can’t stand Richard Waters, an alpha who thinks with his knot and looks down on everyone. They’ve been at each other’s necks since adolescent days. The only reason he’s here today is because his parents are Harry’s parents’ best friends. 

“Hey, _Dick_ ,” Niall says, emphasizing the unfortunate nickname with a wide fake smile. “Knock it off. You’re not allowed to be an ass on Harry’s birthday.”

Richard rolls his eyes. “I’m only here for the hunt.”

The reminder elicits an internal groan. Harry had done his best to ignore that specific tradition as much as possible today. One blessing of his time in the service was no obligation to maintain that particular gruesome family tradition: hunting swans. 

He's clueless as to how this practice originated and why his ancestors in specific were so obsessed with it. Swans were beautiful and pure creatures - the thought of killing one made him sick. Hunting is a typical alpha practice that Harry has always resented. What about killing and destroying made someone strong? 

After four years in the army, Harry has learned many things. One of the most important lessons he's been taught, however, is not relating to swords or war. It's that being a true alpha is recognizing that violence is not necessary, and that true strength comes from wisdom and compassion, not hatred or ego. It’s not to say Harry has never killed - he had to. A couple dozen people easily, but he’ll carry that weight with him for the rest of his life. If anything, having to kill before has made him even more conscious of life and maintaining peace than he ever was before- an essential lesson for the heir to the kingdom. 

Needless to say, Harry never actually shot a swan on his past birthdays, even though it led to pesky rumours and gossip that spread across Orciela like a wildfire. 

However, the older he gets, the more difficult it’ll be to get away with not bringing home a haul like the others. He doesn’t have much time to ponder his options either, considering that according to the giant grandfather clock positioned conveniently to Harry’s left, they’re leaving in an hour. 

“Don’t know why you’re excited considering you’ve got the worst aim,” comments Devin slyly and Harry stifles his laugh at Richard’s insulted expression. 

“Boys!” says a voice. Harry grins when he sees his mother enter the room. 

A chorus of “Good evening, your majesty,” follows her greeting and Queen Anne brushes them off good naturedly. 

“There’s no need for titles for me, you know that, gentlemen,” she says. She turns to Harry, lips pulling into a frown. _That’s not good_ , thinks Harry. “Harry, love, your father and I have to speak with you in the office.”

He nods slowly, ignoring Richard’s mumbled, “Two days back and he’s already in trouble.”

Niall claps him on the back enthusiastically but his eyes are concerned. “Everything alright?”

“I think so,” Harry says. He doesn’t remember doing anything recently that could piss anyone off. “I’ll be right back,” he says to the whole room. They all murmur their responses but he tunes them out, apprehension growing inside him. 

His mother doesn’t wait for him before striding out into the hall. Her two main guards take their positions flanking them as Harry catches up. “What’s going on?” he asks urgently. 

She shoots him a brief glance. “You’re not in trouble if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He furrows his brows. “Then what?”

Another fleeting glance. “Think, darling, you’re twenty-two now…”

He frowns then immediately scowls, the realization settling in on him. There’s only one thing his mother could be referring to if she’s bringing up his age. Apprehension settles in his gut as he realizes what he’s in store for in the coming months. “Marriage?” he guesses flatly. 

“I knew I raised a smart boy,” says his mother primly, but she looks amused. He rolls his eyes.

It’s not like he hasn’t been well aware the topic would soon be brought up considering it _is_ tradition for the crown prince to get engaged at the age of twenty-two, but he had been hoping they’d at least wait a few days. He hadn’t expected them to ambush him so soon. 

But he supposes that he really shouldn’t have been surprised. He’s heard plenty of stories from servants and whispers from friends about past engagements, and more importantly the _balls_. Harry’s father went through the same process, and his father before that, and his father before that… 

Speaking of his father, King Des is already waiting when they arrive. Harry allows himself to be pulled into a hug and clapped on the back. “Happy Birthday, son,” he says as if he hasn’t already wished him multiple times that day. 

Harry pastes on a smile, trying to hide his annoyance. His parents take their seats behind the desk and he sits down on the smaller chair in front of them, feeling like a scolded pupil. “So, let’s get straight into it. Arranged marriage?” he guesses, slathering his voice with false enthusiasm. 

They both roll their eyes. 

“Harry, you know we aren’t giving you an arranged marriage,” his mother says exasperatedly.

“But we do have a list of potential suitable candidates,” his father adds and Harry resists the urge to snort. 

“Brilliant, I get a _choice_ between a limited number of options, fantastic,” he grumbles. He can’t even pretend to be agreeable. This is the one thing he and his parents have always clashed about and it’s one thing he _really_ doesn’t want to give in on. 

“Don’t be cynical,” chides his mother. “There’s a lot of lovely omegas on this list, Harry- boys and girls. We chose people we think you’ll get along with. We’re not monsters.”

He sighs. “That’s not the point, Mum. The point is I want to fall in love with someone _naturally._ I don’t want this to be a political union because even if you have a whole list for me, I know every single person on there has some sort of political bonus.”

Neither of them deny it. 

He groans. “I don’t want that.”

“Harry, you know you have a duty to the kingdom,” says his father seriously. “You are expected to live up to that duty and if that means marrying someone for political gain, you’d best do it.”

“What your father means to say,” interrupts his mother who gives her husband a pointed look. “Is that we at least want you to _try_. We want you to exchange some letters- build up a correspondence. And three months from now we’ll host the annual Spring Ball where hopefully, you’ll continue tradition and announce your engagement.”

Harry sucks in a breath. 

Three months. 

His parents are _insane._

As if reading his mind, his mother adds quickly, “At least try before you renounce it all. This is a big family tradition.”

Harry frowns, but doesn’t argue. There’s nothing he really can do and he’s learned that lesson far too many times in the past. His life is not completely his own. He’ll have to talk to these people and hope one of them catches his eye enough to consider marriage (in three months!) or he’ll be doomed to endure a loveless match for the rest of his life.

He glances at the amount of distance between his parents’ chairs. Not the first time it would happen to their family. 

“Okay, fine,” he relents after a minute, realizing that stalling . “I’ll play your stupid game.”

“Good,” says his father, ignoring the snark in his tone. “Now go back to your friends and get ready to leave for the hunt. I hope to see you bring something back this time.”

Harry forces a saccharine smile. “I’ll do my best,” he says. 

-

As per tradition, Harry leads the hunt. 

He heads the group on his trusty steed, Darcy, geared up in his hunting clothes and equipped with his crossbow and sword. Liam’s flanking him to the left. Harry attempted to convince his parents to allow them to go without guard escorts, though Liam has volunteered himself to take up the position despite Harry’s protests. His father was all too happy to allow it. 

Harry can take of himself, for fuck’s sake. But that’s currently not his biggest issue. His _biggest_ issue is figuring out a way to avoid hunting a swan. 

They stop at the edge of the forest and restrain the horses. This part of the forest is pretty dense so they have to continue by foot. It also improves chances of approaching an unsuspecting swan considerably.

As per the name, most of Forét (a province in Orciela) is occupied by vast forests. The closest one to the palace is Olor Silvam or ‘Swan Forest’ in Latin- a fitting title and location for their current endeavor. Harry’s spent countless hours since his younger years roaming the lands, unfortunately accompanied by his personal guards but fun nonetheless. 

He’s honestly happy to see it again after so long, letting his eyes trace the familiar line of trees and peer as far as he can into the distance until everything blurs into dense greenery.

Yes, it’s good to be back. If only it were under better circumstances. 

They take off in rows of two since the paths are so narrow. Harry and Liam in front, then Allen and Nathan, Francis and Devin, and Richard lurking in the back, most likely brooding and muttering insults about Harry under his breath. 

Harry really regrets not tying him up with the horses but he figures it's too late for that now. 

As always, they end up splitting up. 

Harry goes east with Liam, Allen, and Nathan leaving Richard, Francis, and Devin to venture further west. He’s getting more and more uneasy by the second, feeling guilty because of the worried looks his friends are sending him. They’re all aware of his morals when it comes to things like this. It’s not that he’s not capable- he just truly doesn’t want to kill something innocent, especially since it’s only for something as unceremonious as an outdated birthday tradition. 

Gemma never had to hunt a swan. Then again, his older sister has many other issues to face as a woman in high society, beta or not. While Harry was training with the army, Gemma was fighting her own battles in court and with their parents, pushing against the barriers that have been imposed on her since youth. 

With that in mind, Harry reluctantly plays along, gripping his crossbow with reluctant fingers and grimacing as they creep through the trees. The moment Allen spots a swan, he backs away. There’s no witness of his act of supposed ‘cowardice’ and he knows his friends will understand, so he veers off into a separate direction, making brief eye contact with Liam to inform him of his disappearance. 

Surrounded by the hulking trees and heady darkness, he finally allows himself to relax, slipping off the steel facade he’s pasted on ever since they left the castle. 

He’s just so tired. Tired of outdated and morally questionable practices, tired of unreasonable expectations, tired of the nosiness and lack of respect for privacy, and tired of having to ponder at his future with a weary frown. 

His time in service was harsh and brutal training wise, but it was also an escape. Four years of abandoning his carefully crafted persona of _Prince Harry Edward Styles, heir to the throne_ and allowing himself to be just Harry, soldier and normal guy. 

It sounds pathetic for him to complain about, he knows. He’s well aware of his privilege and luck in life and he’d never dismiss it, but sometimes he just wishes things were different. That sexism didn’t exist and Gemma could be the heir to the kingdom, or that he had never been born into royalty at all. 

That he could fall in love with whoever he wanted instead of someone chosen for him. It’s not that these people are _bad-_ Harry is sure they’re all good, hopefully kind omegas. But he can’t help but yearn for the stuff of fairy tales. A love so powerful and all-consuming that is stumbled across instead of manufactured. 

He’s heard stories of how Gemma met Michal, how they had an instant connection and everything just fell into place when they were together. Harry can’t lie and say he’s somewhat bitter watching their happiness from afar, knowing he’ll never get the same chance. 

With a sigh, he pushes those thoughts out of mind, and trudges on. He doesn’t want to go too far but he’s not opposed to complete isolation right now, maybe to watch the moon rise to the highest point in the sky as clocks everywhere strike midnight and February 1st is finally over. This is definitely not how he’d like his birthday to end but it’s all he’s got. 

The faint sound of _something_ has him stopping in his tracks, a frown flattening his lips. He strains his ears, picking up the faint noise of water lapping somewhere. The forest has many ponds and streams and Harry’s suddenly gotten the urge to find one- maybe dip his toes in if the water is clear. 

He listens a little bit more, taking tentative steps to the left when he realizes it’s coming from off-path. 

The trees are ridiculously dense all over but there’s a small gap between two smaller pine trees which he eases his way through, scowling when his crossbow catches on an unseen branch. He distangles it quickly, biting his lip. 

Then he blinks. He’s found himself at the outskirts of a small clearing on the banks of a large, clear pond. Really, it’s too big to be a pond - perhaps a small lake?

It’s pretty, he thinks. And hopefully clean. There’s a rocky overhang on one end where a small chute of water cascades to the surface gently: a waterfall. It’s all very quaint and charming, like something out of a storybook. 

Harry sucks in a breath, stiffening as his ears catch the distinct sound of rustling. His gaze snaps to the left, latching onto the jostling bushes under a canopy of willow trees. At first he thinks it’s one of the boys coming to find him, but then he sees a flash of white feathers. 

Then a flash of beak.

A swan. 

A swan that stumbles out of the bush and shakes its feathers lazily. It’s small and graceful with sleek feathers and a delicate air about it that has Harry stilling in his hidden spot by the tree. 

He tightens his grip on his crossbow, conflicted as he subconsciously slips into the correct hunting stance. He can't kill an innocent swan, can he? 

It’ll get the others off his back and prevent any awful press about how the heir to the throne is “weak”- never mind his exceptional fencing and shooting abilities and praised combat skills. 

He watches in silence as the swan waddles into the clearing, completely oblivious to Harry’s presence and inner turmoil. 

Biting his lip, he decides he physically can’t do it. He straightens up and lowers his weapon defeatedly. He’ll have to track down Liam and the others. They’re all probably a mile ahead by now so he’ll have to pick up his pace. He moves to turn, but something has him freezing in place, mouth gaping open. 

The swan is _glowing._

Not gleaming under the sheen of the moon- it’s literally and completely _illuminated_ by light. Stunned, he observes as the swan stops at the shoreline of the pool and sits down on its haunches. Its feathers glimmer with something almost- or definitely- magical. And now that he's realized it, it’s almost as if he can feel a faint thrumming running through the air. A layer of something _more_ buzzing around him. 

Something indescribable. 

He's has never seen or felt anything like it. Maybe the stories of magic and sorcery are true, he realizes. It seems a whole lot less outlandish now, because this _has_ to be magic.

Something beyond his imagination, and Harry watches in awe as it slowly intensifies until the glow is enveloping the creature fully and hiding its body from view. 

Harry’s breath catches as the glow grows bigger and bigger until he’s squinting his eyes and blinking at the sudden intense brightness. He closes his eyes, rubbing at them helplessly. When his eyes open again- he gasps, grip loosening on his bow as he gawks at the sight before him. 

Because the swan is gone. 

And in its place is the prettiest omega Harry has ever seen. 

He’s dressed in a flimsy white slip and is standing barefoot on the sandy bank. Harry bites his lip as his eyes wander up his slim, yet curvy figure. The boy has tan, smooth skin which Harry can admire clearly under the soft rays of moonlight. His soft, caramel hair is tousled and mussed, and for some odd reason, Harry itches to feel it against his fingertips. The boy is facing the waters, fiddling with the loose straps of his dress distractedly. 

Something in Harry twists when his eyes trace over the unmistakable arc of his slender waist and the curve of his arse. He swallows, feeling ashamed for ogling. 

Then he realizes this boy came out of nowhere - no. 

He appeared when the swan disappeared. Harry’s eyes widen as he recognizes the familiar ease and grace of the boy before him that he witnessed just moments ago. The boy _is_ the swan. “What the fuck,” he whispers. 

The familiar sound of rustling breaks Harry out of trance and he tenses again, hunching in against the tree in effort to remain unseen. Out in the clearing, the boy doesn’t flinch. 

And then four other swans are gliding into the clearing, shuffling their feathers and preening under the moon. The boy turns and Harry immediately turns his attention back to him, drawn to his movements like a magnet. He grins at the sight of the other swans and Harry exhales thickly, feeling something uncoil inside him at his kind smile.

He’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice until it’s too late as his grip loosens on his crossbow. With a distinct clatter, the weapon slips from his hands and hits the ground. Normally, the sound of the weapon hitting the forest floor wouldn’t be too loud, but in the silent atmosphere of the hollow, the sound cuts through the air like a shot. 

Harry freezes. Bright, blue eyes framed by long lashes snap to his instantly and for a moment everything stops.

Then the beautiful boy gasps, eyes widening as he stumbles back in shock.

He winces, feeling embarrassed and angry at himself. 

The boy stares at him in horror. 

Remaining as still as he can, he tries to appear calm and non-threatening. It's a difficult feat considering the sword sheathed on his belt and his crisp hunting clothes. 

“Wait,” he exclaims when the boy stumbles back, feet splashing the calm waters and causing ripples to run along the surface. He raises his arms in surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he continues firmly. He holds eye contact with the boy who’s shaking in fear and distrust. 

“Who are you?” he asks, terror in his voice. 

“My name is Harry,” he says slowly, keeping his hands raised and his expression open. “I swear, I mean no harm.” 

“You’re an alpha,” the omega breathes, visibly distressed. 

Harry’s eyes widen. “Yes, but… I won’t touch you, I promise.” 

The other four swans are squawking and ruffling their feathers- Harry’s never seen swans so loud and irritated. The boy looks worried when he slides his gaze over to them, hands twitching in barely concealed agitation. Then he spins back to look at Harry, eyes wide. “How did you find us?”

He blinks. “I… It was an accident- I didn’t realize I’d be intruding on anything, I swear.” He smiles sheepishly. “I didn’t expect to see that.” 

‘That’ meaning _magic_. 

“Who are you?” the boy asks again, still sounding terrified. His fear tugs at Harry’s heartstrings, wincing at his trembling figure and pursed lips. He wants the angel to smile again.

“I said, I’m Harry,” he repeats slowly, keeping his tone even and kind. 

“But who _are_ you?” the boy implores, crossing his arms over his chest protectively. He’s shivering, Harry notes. It’s early February- the wind is cruel and harsh, yet this boy is wearing nothing but a slip. “Where did you come from?”

Harry blinks. Where did he come from… How does he answer that? Can he tell him the truth? That he’s the prince and heir to the throne? No, that’s out of the question. It’s too risky and the others would kill him. 

“I’m Harry Edwards,” he settles on eventually, running a hand through his hair apprehensively. The boy ducks his head timidly and Harry’s heart pangs. He’s still scared and Harry hates it. “I live in the village nearby. I swear I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just… confused.” The boy doesn’t react. “I really don’t mean any harm. But, um, how exactly did that…” he pauses to gesture vaguely at him, “Happen?”

The boy flinches. “I can’t tell you that,” he says uneasily.

“Oh, okay then,” says Harry awkwardly. 

A tense silence perculates around them and Harry clears his throat. “I told you my name, so I think it’s fair that you tell me yours.” He finishes the statement as he meets those enchanting blue eyes again. His heart thrums painfully- he never knew eyes could be so blue. “What’s your name?” he asks softly. 

The boy blinks at him slowly, eyelashes fluttering softly. His pink lips part and right before he says anything, a boisterous laugh interrupts- cutting through the peaceful atmosphere and sending Harry’s heart racing. 

They both freeze. 

“Harry!” yells a voice. “Oi, Harold! Where are ya?” 

Harry cringes as the familiar voice of Allen rings through the air. He fumbles for his crossbow as the distinct sound of footsteps stomp closer. His eyes snap to the boy only to widen in shock- he’s gone. 

They’re all gone - the swans and the mysterious omega. Vanished into thin air. 

He stares at the now empty clearing, completely stunned. 

“Harry!” Nathan shouts in a long, drawn out yell.. He sighs in disappointment and quickly cuts back through the bushes where he came from and stumbles back onto the main path right as Nathan, Allen, and a very distressed Liam come into view. Liam seems to slump in relief when they see him. 

“What the fuck, Harry,” he says chidingly. “You can’t just go off on your own, you’re the fucking prince!”

The use of curse words emphasizes just how much Liam had been worried and Harry instantly feels bad. “Sorry mate,” he says apologetically. “I, uh…” He thinks of the pretty boy and how he was a swan one moment and a human the next. “I thought I saw a swan and got distracted.”

Allen cackles. “Very nice, _your_ _highness_ ,” he jeers. 

Shooting a reproachful look to him, Harry directs his question to Liam. “Where’re the others?”

Liam frowns. “They’re a mile ahead. We came back to look for you and they said they’d wait for us.”

Harry pastes on a nonchalant smile, hoping the uneasiness won’t bleed through. “Right, we better catch up then, lads.”

“Lead the way, your majesty,” says Nathan, bowing obnoxiously. Harry rolls his eyes. 

He waits for Nathan and Allen to stagger on ahead before falling into step with Liam. “The boys saved a swan for you,” whispers Liam. Harry gapes, glancing at the man who shoots him a small smile. 

“You...” Harry trails off, completely taken aback. 

Liam shrugs. “It wasn’t me who shot it. It was Devin and Nathan.” He smiles again. “They know how you feel about it and since they’re morals don’t contradict their ability to hunt, they did it for you. I know they’re idiots sometimes, but they’re all good people deep inside.”

Harry glances up at where Allen and Nathan are staggering and guffawing about something. Liam’s right- as infuriating as they can be, they’ve always had Harry’s back. And he’s pretty sure they’ll continue to have his back when he becomes king in a few years. 

“Thank you,” he says empathetically. “I’ll thank them soon too.”

“Meanwhile," Liam with a sigh. “I think Richard ditched Francis and Devin and ended up getting his crossbow stuck in a bush.”

Harry chokes out a laugh, delighted at the imagery that comes up in his mind. The alpha red-faced and scowling at a bush, most undoubtedly cursing out the royal family and throwing a tantrum. 

“Happy birthday to me,” he murmurs smugly. “Lead onwards.” 

-

“I feel I’m reading through a catalogue,” Harry complains, huffing as he surveys the page in front of him. 

Niall chuckles, “Well, I mean...” 

Harry shoots him a look and his friend wisely doesn’t continue. He sighs tiredly, flipping to the next page and scanning another list of names. The amount of information offered about each person fluctuates depending on the person - some offer nothing but a name, age, title, and a picture, but others contain descriptions of likes, dislikes, goals, and more information that can drag on for pages at a time. 

He’s already been through a dozen, eyes going blurry from the cramped handwriting and brain whirling in dread and discomfort. He _really_ doesn’t want to do this. 

As if reading his mind, Niall interjects, “If you don’t like any of these people, are they still going to make you choose one?”

Harry shrugs. “I know Mum wouldn’t force me to do anything but if Father thinks it’ll be the best for the kingdom…” His voice trails off, both of them knowing what he meant. 

“Sorry, mate,” Niall says sadly. 

Nodding mutely, he gestures for the tray of pastries that Niall just finished baking, aiming to improve the mood. “Can I have one?”

“Yeah, of course,” Niall says, holding it out to him. Harry takes one, already salivating at the flaky golden brown delicacy. 

He eats it in three bites. 

When he glances back at Niall, the man is stifling his laughs. “What?” he says, brushing away a few stray crumbs from his lips. 

Niall grins, shaking his head. “Nothing, I’m just glad to see that your appetite hasn’t changed.”

There’s a layer in his answer that makes Harry wince. He loves Niall - he used to be Harry’s closest friend, but going away for four years would build a rift between any friends, no matter how strong. 

They had hung out two days before on Harry’s first full day back at the castle, and while Harry and he had had plenty of things to catch up on, Harry still noticed the obvious tension between them. The palpable awkwardness and intermediate pauses between each shared story. It’s upsetting, but not unexpected. 

Harry wishes more than anything that things could be the same, but they can’t. He’s grown so much in four years and so has Niall. They’ve lived so many memories apart and each day, month, year… all of them contributed to a river between them. 

And they both know it. 

“Of course not,” he says belatedly. He flexes his arms obnoxiously, smirking. “These don’t just come from nowhere.” Niall snorts. 

Then Ava is bustling into the kitchen, eyes narrowing. “Horan, what’re you doing?”

Niall smiles sheepishly, getting up and scratching at the back of his neck. “Just catching up with Har- his royal highness.” 

Ava glares at him. “Dinner needs to be ready in two hours!” she snaps. Harry stands up hastily, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“It’s not his fault, Ms. Ava, I’m the one who came and distracted him,” he insists. Ava gives him a stingy appraisal, lips curled into a scowl. 

“Prince Harry Styles,” she snaps. Harry stiffens, wary. “Why, pray tell, have I known you’ve been back for three days and this is the first I’m seeing you in the flesh?”

He grins, allowing Ava to pull him into a hug in which he crouches down because while bold and intimidating, Harry’s still a foot taller than her. 

“Sorry, Madame,” he says sheepishly. 

Ava cups his face, narrowing her eyes. “You look thin, jeune homme!”

He chuckles. “Well of course I am, I’ve been missing your cooking.”

She swats at the side of his head, tutting. “Don’t be a kiss ass.”

He sputters and Niall cackles, breaking off abruptly when she turns to glare at him again, hands braced on her hips. “Horan, don’t make me come over there!”

Niall raises a hand in surrender while chopping carrots. Harry bites his lip, amused. Then Ava’s gripping him by the arms again. 

“What have they done to my poor boy?”

His mouth twitches. “Not a boy any longer, Ms. Ava,” he drawls. 

She frowns, shaking her head. “No, you aren’t,” she agrees, punctuating her concurrence by squeezing his biceps teasingly. 

Harry gets distracted by Ava’s familiar amethyst necklace as it swings back and forth against the fabric of her apron. He knows what it is of course: an sorcery amulet. Ava’s been wearing it since he was a young child, always firm in her belief that she wore it as a protection from evil. 

He’s never believed in spiritual, _magical_ things like that but Ms. Ava has always been so adamant about its existence, confident that magic existed all around them. He thinks back to the night before with the swan who became an omega and swallows. “Ms. Ava,” he starts unsurely. She raises her eyebrows in curiosity. He clears his throat, “Um… What exactly made you believe in magic?”

For a second there’s nothing but shocked silence, then Ava’s blinking rapidly- a mixture of confusion and wariness in her eyes. “I’ve always believed in it,” she says eventually. “My parents believed and they spread it to me, but I’ve always _known_.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, feeling stupid. 

She shakes her head as if to clear the clutter from her brain. “It’s just a… _feeling_ I have, y’know? An instinct. I’ve never doubted that magic is real- nor have I doubted that there’s people among us who are blessed with the power to wield it, good or bad.”

“You mean, like sorcerers?” Harry prompts, amused. 

“Yes,” she says easily. “Like sorcerers and sorceresses and witches and alchemists and all those taboo labels that everyone keeps hushed about, claiming it’s all nonsense and folk tales but really they’re just _afraid_.” 

Something in Harry’s stomach twists at that. This is nothing new to him - he’s asked Ava plenty of questions about her amulet and her beliefs when he was young. But never so seriously as he is now. Never so worriedly. 

“And you believe in curses?” he asks cautiously. Because if magic is real and that boy really was a swan (or the swan really was a boy), it must be a curse.

She nods, eyebrows wrinkling. “What’s the matter sweetheart? You look pale.”

He shakes his head, feigning a smile. “Nothing, I’ve just been reading a bit on the stuff.” 

Ava nods but there’s visible curiosity lingering in her eyes. Harry ignores it. 

“I personally think it’s all rubbish,” pipes up Niall and Ava levels him with another glare. Harry frowns- he felt the same less than 24 hours ago. 

But now… Now, he’s positive he was wrong. 

He has no idea _what_ happened to that omega in the forest, but he’s beginning to grow desperate to find out. 

-

Harry was eleven years old the first time he discovered there was a secret passageway in his room. 

Well, okay, fine. _Gemma_ was the one who discovered it, but Harry doesn’t believe in paying that much attention to details. 

They had been dismissed from their etiquette classes early because their governess had a family emergency, and then told to remain in their rooms until dinner when their parents would return from their counsel meeting at the capital. 

However, Gemma snuck into his room so they could practice fencing with the sabers she stole from the training room and one thing led to another, and Gemma impaled her saber through one of the paintings hanging on the mantle of Harry’s fireplace. 

The terror that had coursed through them both in that moment was monumental. In a fit of desperation and panic, they ripped the entire painting off the wall, hoping that no one would notice its absence in the sea of paintings and art embellishing the walls. 

Instead of the familiar cream white wall behind it, there was an opening. 

Gemma had gone first, claiming her seniority as an excuse for her to get the first look. At the time Harry hadn’t minded much because of his slight fear of enclosed spaces but his regret quickly surfaced when they stumbled along a network of tunnels that led to various places in the castle as well as one point nearly half a mile from the castle walls. 

Harry can’t lie and say he’s never taken advantage of that unexpected discovery, however, he can affirm that no one in the castle save for his sister and Niall knows of his teenage escapades in the town village and he’d _really_ like it to stay that way. 

So, even though he’s very familiar with his personal passageway, he’s still a bit apprehensive after dinner when he stands before the painting of a lake (they had to replace the old one obviously) for the first time in four years. He hasn’t moved in a full minute, just contemplating what he’s attempting to do and not paying any attention to the abandoned half-drafted letters to potential omegas laying haphazardly on his desk less than ten feet away. 

He’s dressed in some inconspicuous hunting clothes, never considering the possibility of wearing his regular clothes and risking his reputation and his father’s sanity and calm. He’s got a dagger in his boot just in case and is wearing an extra coat that he doesn’t need. He has a different idea in mind for it. 

It’s late at night and mostly everyone in the castle is asleep. Harry’s guards are stationed outside of his door, blissfully unaware of Harry's plans thanks to the soundproofing of his walls and the inherent trust- whether misplaced or not- of his parents in him since his youth. 

He inhales a disgusting amount of dust as his fingers grip the edge of the frame and pull upwards, unhooking the painting from the wall. He coughs, internally noting that the maids really did slack off on cleaning his room while he was gone. 

Not that he minded- his father had them running around for plenty of inconsequential and sometimes downright frivolous tasks. 

Blinking against the darkness of the revealed gap, his eyes slowly adjust to reveal the familiar cramped set of stairs that curve around and around all the way down into darkness. A grimace curls his lips once he realizes the staircase looks more fragile than he remembered.

Good thing he’s never been one to deny a challenge. 

He grabs his lantern in one hand and grips the edge experimentally, smiling when he realizes it still supports his weight. Then he carefully slides himself onto the top step, bracing himself with hands on the wooden railings. He has no idea who constructed these passageways though he’s certain it’s one of his more restless ancestors- he only wishes they built something a bit sturdier. 

Nevertheless, he cautiously leans back in through the hole in the wall to grab the abandoned picture and rehook it in its place. It’s a feat he’s completed so many times, yet he still struggles with getting it back on backwards. 

With a deep breath and a quick appraisal of how far down he has to go (much farther down than he remembered, _Gods_ ), he tightens his grasp on the lantern and sets off. 

The tunnel is narrower than he recalls- or maybe it’s just that Harry is broader than he was when he was eighteen. 

He hunches inward on himself and crouches as he weaves his way through the familiar route. The dim glow of his lantern is his only guide as he carefully avoids rocks and particularly dangerous looking sections of the walls. He’ll never forget the time he almost got buried alive in the tunnels as a fourteen year old due to an unexpected landslide, and he’d definitely like to avoid a recurrence. 

Not for the first time since he decided to take his trip, he wonders why he feels so compelled to do this- to return to the forest. To see that omega. 

It’s curiosity, yes. But it’s also something else. 

A feeling, an _instinct._ Maybe it’s his inner alpha desperate to protect a vulnerable omega, especially because Harry isn’t sure where this omega is getting food or if he has any other clothes or blankets to protect him from the cold. But it feels deeper than that. There’s something about that boy that intrigues Harry, and he’s not talking about his ability to transform into a swan. 

He wants to talk to him. It’s a deep yearning that’s instilled itself in his chest since the night before and though he’s done his very best to ignore it, it refuses to leave Harry’s mind. 

So here he is. Reliving his teen days in the middle of the night instead of going over the notes for his potential husband or wife like he should be doing. 

He pushes those thoughts out of point and continues onwards, ducking under a low hanging slab of rock and cursing when he bumps his elbow into the wall. 

The first breath of fresh air feels like a gust of wind - coursing through his body and slowly unwinding all of his tense muscles. He shakes the dirt and dust from his body, and raises the lantern, scanning his surroundings. 

He’s in a small clearing by the road. The exit of the tunnels has always been pretty decently concealed by the old willow tree and a carefully-constructed pile of wood, but the chance of discovery is always there even if this road is one of the least used in the entire kingdom. 

However, there’s no one to be seen for ages in each direction. 

Harry takes a deep breath and then starts walking.

-

The first thing he hears when he finally reaches the familiar gap between trees he stumbled upon the night before, is _singing_. He’s walked for miles to get here without going on horse (sneaking out of his room may be easy but sneaking into the stables to get Darcy is entirely out of question). 

But the singing stops him short, taking away his frustrations and annoyance with a single melodic note. 

A soft, lilting voice that sends a wave of something indescribable through his body. 

The omega. 

Or swan. Swan-omega? 

Harry actually stops in his place, first stunned at the sound and then utterly entranced. The pure emotion and pain in his voice sinks into his insides and tugs at his heart - it’s haunting and beautiful and tragic all at the same time. He swallows, worry clawing up his throat. 

He feels so ashamed. Like he’s intruding on something sacred and vulnerable, like he’s horrible for coming here and breaking the peace. 

But he came here for a reason, so he fights the feeling and steps closer, hands reaching out to grip the side of a tree as he peers into the clearing. 

He sucks in a breath. It’s the boy - as in he’s a boy right now, not a swan. And he’s sitting cross-legged at the shore of the water circled by the same four swans from before, the low glow of the moon casting a shimmering light over their little circle and enhancing the angel’s features. It’s like the moon and him are one, he thinks. He’s never seen the moon take a fancy to something or someone like it’s taken a fancy to this beauty. 

Deciding that he can’t have things turning out like they did the night before in which they caught him before he could introduce himself peacefully, he steps completely into the small glade and clears his throat, the sound cutting through the melodic singing like a shard of glass. 

The omega freezes, head snapping up in fright. His mouth drops open as his eyes lock in on Harry, undoubtedly recognizing him. He steps forward, holding up his weaponless hands in surrender and smiling sheepishly. 

“I’m sorry for intruding again,” he says slowly, voice deep and gentle. 

The omega doesn’t respond, still staring at him in shock and wariness. The swans on the other hand have begun to flutter their wings incessantly and squawk noisily. Harry ignores them, eyes latched onto those gorgeous blue ones. 

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he says honestly. Because he’s been worrying ever since the boy disappeared in thin air without Harry being able to talk to him- to hear his story and make sure he’s alright. 

“Why?” the omega asks, uncertainty lacing his tone. He sounds skeptical and terrified and Harry really wants to hug him. He looks like he needs a hug- cowering and curling into himself with the straps of his slip sliding down his shoulders. He’s practically trembling from the fear or the cold or both. 

Harry takes another slow step forward. “I’m concerned.” He realizes that sounds creepy and adds, “I get that you don’t trust me. You don’t have to trust me or tell me your name if you don’t want to. But…” He slips off his jacket and holds it out. “I want you to take this, please. It’s cold outside and you’re going to catch a sickness wearing just that.”

The omega blinks, clearly taken aback. He stares at Harry’s warm, wool jacket with a mixture of longing and confusion. Harry carefully takes another few steps, lays it on the ground, and then retreats back to the edge of the clearing. 

“You can take it,” he says gently. 

No response. Well… no response from the omega. However, one of the swans waddles closer and noses at the jacket curiously, tilting his head back and squawking. The omega startles, brows furrowing. 

Something prickles at Harry’s insides. Is he? Can he communicate with the swan? 

A movement breaks him out of his internal conflict and he glances back to see the boy dart out and grab the jacket, a deep blushing forming on his cheeks. Harry barely manages to stifle his smile as the boy frantically puts on the jacket, zipping it up to his collar. 

It’s _giant_ on him, Harry notices. He had been expecting that especially because the hunting jacket is pretty roomy on Harry too, but seeing it in front of him… Seeing the way the sleeves fall below his fingers and the shoulders droop halfway down his forearms, and how the hem falls down to his mid-thighs, just a few mere centimeters above the end of his slip. 

Harry swallows roughly, feeling an indescribable emotion coil deep in his chest. 

“Thank you,” says the omega belatedly, still blushing. He looks adorable.

Harry can’t believe he just thought that. 

“No problem,” he replies a beat too late, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair and biting his lip. The omega is slowly inching his way backwards, clearly trying to escape. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you.” 

But the omega is looking more and more panicked by the moment. “Thank you,” he repeats, looking distraught. 

Harry’s alpha berates him and he winces. “Do you want me to go?” he asks carefully. He’s praying the omega says no, but-

“Yes,” he breathes. Harry sighs. 

“I will,” he says gently. “I’m going now, okay? Keep the jacket.” 

The omega shakes his head before rushing to take it off. Harry steps back, waving his hands. “No, seriously. Keep it! You need it more than me.” 

He looks like he’s going to protest so Harry moves back further. “I’m leaving right now. Please keep the jacket and wear it. Don’t get sick, okay?” The omega doesn’t react so he continues cautiously, “I have no idea what happened to you, but I’m going to come back in one week, alright? If you want to talk to me, then I’ll find you here. If not, then hide and I’ll know. And I won’t bother you again.” 

The omega stares at him, eyes wide and bright and blue. 

Harry swallows, nodding a final time. “One week,” he repeats. “Same time. And if not, I’ll respect your wishes.” 

Then he backs away completely. 

-

Unfortunately for Harry and Harry’s very concerned alpha, the week passes by slowly. 

It’s his first whole week back in the castle which means he’s forced to readjust to his duties as prince and jump right back into his busy schedule. 

A lunch function one day and then answering letters from kids, which he’d actually really enjoy had he not been forced to write the same clipped answer to every single person who spent effort and time sending him, oftentimes, really thoughtful letters. 

The next day, a visitation to the capital where he spent more time being photographed in his suit with a fake smile then actually doing anything productive. On the brightside, he got to visit a class of young children and talk to them for an hour and that was much more enjoyable. Harry adores kids and he can’t wait to have his own pups someday. 

Except the person he’ll be having pups with is most likely going to be someone he’s not in love with, right. 

Speaking of which, on day three, his mother finally forces him to sit down and compose letters to at least half of the candidates from the list (or ‘catalogue’). Harry grumbles the entire time, but he’s not an asshole so he puts some effort into it, making sure to be polite and welcoming. 

Day four includes him and Liam training together: fencing, wrestling, and then a long run on the castle grounds. Harry’s been feeling restless having to go from intense training regimes every day in the morning and late afternoon to practically nothing, so it feels good to get that extra energy out. He has dinner with his parents and the family of one of the most prominent dukes in Orciela who Harry can’t for the life of him remember the name of. 

He’s accompanied by his wife and two sons, both of whom don’t utter a word during the entire meal. It’s boring and dull and 90% of the conversation revolves around the fucking weather so Harry doesn’t feel bad about tuning everything out. 

The fifth day is slightly less busy, which means he takes the opportunity to go to the castle library which he hasn’t stepped foot inside in over a decade to be completely honest. He searches for around two hours but only finds two books that relate to magic and sorcery, and one of them is a book of fairy tales. He doesn’t know what he had been expecting really, all nobles are very against the notion of magic’s existence and have been for centuries. 

If Harry wants more information, he’ll have to find it elsewhere. 

Day six consists of another lunch function and photoshoot and then a long horseback ride with his mother who wants to spend more time with him now that he’s finally returned. Harry was happy to oblige her. He’s missed his mother painfully over the past four years- much more than he’s missed his father who demands that he begin narrowing down his list of omegas. 

And then, finally, it’s the end of the week. Harry only has a council meeting he has to be present for in the morning and a lunch with said council afterwards and then he’s free until night where he can at long last see if the mysterious omega has decided to trust him. 

Alas, there’s a reason Harry saw his time in service as an escape from frustrating events such as these. Council meetings are made up of the king and his three closest advisors as well as representatives from the thirteen regions of their kingdom. 

And Harry. 

Every single one of them is male and an alpha. So much for an “ _attempt at representation,"_ that his father had promised years ago. 

They take place once a month and are always tense and mostly unproductive affairs, and today’s are particularly bad. 

There’s discontent spreading in the outer regions due to raised taxes. There hasn’t been war for a good six years now, but debts are still being paid off and the lower classes are struggling. Harry has always been very sympathetic to the cause of the people and he’s voiced his opinions in the council before. That’s what he’s there for after all: to gain experience and practice for when he’ll be sitting at the head of the table and forced to keep peace between bickering government officials like his father, but he’s always just dismissed. 

He’s learned over time that it’s better if he stays silent. He hates and despises how things are run. Despite his and his father’s differences, Harry can confidently say he thinks his father’s rule has been fairly just, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t recognize the serious grievances with his policies and methods. 

However, he’s still only the crown prince. Nothing he says or proposes will actually be taken seriously until he is coronated. 

So he bites his tongue and resists the urge to lash out when once again, one of his father’s advisors mentions something about tightening control on the subjects located in cities and villages on the outskirts of the country- as in, arresting or using force to keep them in line. 

He hates that his father actually considers it- lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed as he mulls it over and allows said advisor to elaborate. Thank the gods, other people protest and the notion is eventually floored. 

Harry can’t believe that this alpha was even hired in the first place. He can’t believe _any_ of the advisors were hired. 

The first thing he’ll do when he becomes king, he decides, is replace them. And then he’ll actually create a diverse council with alphas, betas, and yes- even omegas. Men and women. And different backgrounds and levels of prominence too so he can actually get a good picture of what issues and struggles plague Orciela for different genders and different backgrounds. 

But he can’t do that yet, so he continues to bite his tongue. 

Thankfully, he’s able to excuse himself from lunch and go for a long run in which he pretends he’s outrunning all of his responsibilities and the newspapers. 

He’s not back for hours. 

After taking a shower, he heads to the kitchens to see Niall. They haven’t seen each other at all during the week and Harry feels horrible about it. 

(He also may be denying the idea that he may have been intentionally avoiding his beta friend in fear that their relationship truly isn’t what it used to be- a truth he’s terrified of). 

Niall is kneading dough when he arrives. It only takes a minute and Ava walking in and catching him red-handed before he’s right beside him, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and arms covered in flour. Niall gives him a wrap-up of the week and Harry offers a vague recap of his own in return. 

He knows he sounds miserable, but Niall ignores it, clearly telling by Harry’s sour expression that he’s not in the mood. 

“So, is there anything you want to talk about or are we just going to work in silence?” asks Niall. 

Harry sighs. “Have you ever been in love, Niall?” he asks woefully. 

Niall drops his rolling pin, spinning to face him with wide eyes. “Harry, did you meet someone?”

He gapes, taken aback. Before he can speak, Ava is peeking in again, shock written all over her face. “Someone actually caught your picky eye?”

Harry scoffs. “I haven’t met anyone, for fuck’s sake. I was just asking a question.”

Ava cackles, “Okay, your royal highness. When you stop being a coward, feel free to tell me all about this omega…” She shoots him a pointed look. “Or beta or alpha. I don’t discriminate.”

Harry rolls his eyes. 

Ava disappears again and Niall gives him a skeptical look. “Um, I guess maybe? Once or twice.”

He frowns. More than once? Is he truly that far behind? “How?”

“How do I know?” Niall raises an eyebrow. “Or how did I do it?”

“Both,” Harry admits miserably. He doesn’t know why he’s asking. It’s not like he’s going to get to utilize any advice Niall may give. He’s not supposed to fall in love. He has to pick from a predetermined list. 

Maybe he could fall for one of those people… 

But he highly doubts it. He knows his brain will protest the idea of not getting to fall in love “naturally”. His alpha will dislike not using his instincts to pick a mate. He can’t do it. 

Niall shrugs. “I don’t really know how to explain it mate, you should ask Ava.” 

“Ask me what?” asks the beta, peeking her head in again. 

“How do you know you’re in love with someone?” repeats Harry. 

She hums thoughtfully. “To be honest, it’s not really something you can explain. You just _know._ Sometimes it’s a big revelation or it can be something you come to know overtime. You can even know in advance that you’re falling in love with someone, but are not quite there yet. It’s all-consuming and subtle at the same time. When you fall in love with someone, it feels like everything makes sense.” 

Well, that was exceptionally vague, Harry thinks bitterly. “Okay, but _how_ \- how do you even find someone?”

“I mean, you date people. You go out and interact with other people and if you’re attracted to someone, you talk to them. If the attraction goes beyond physical attributes or sexual tension, then you pursue it,” says Ava casually. 

Harry frowns. He’s very familiar with physical attraction- definitely has no problems in that regard. Maybe it’s the stuff that comes after. Being attracted to someone’s personality. He’s never gotten the chance to really get to know someone and have that happen. “Thanks for telling me,” he says anyway. 

Ava brushes him off. “You can always come to me for advice. You already know it’s going to be better than Niall’s.”

“ _Hey,_ ” Niall complains, but he doesn’t deny it. 

“What brought this on? Upset about the arranged marriage stuff?”Ava asks, sympathetic to his obvious struggle.

Harry nods glumly. “Yeah… Father wants me to narrow down the list to my top twelve. _Twelve_ ,” he scoffs. “He’s giving me the next week to choose and then he wants me to trade letters with them all until the ball.” 

“The ball,” echoes Niall. “That’s where they want you to announce it, isn’t it?”

He nods again, throat dry and unable to formulate a coherent reply. 

“I’m sorry, mate,” says Niall. “That sucks.” 

Ava tries to be optimistic. “Maybe you’ll actually fall for one of them?”

Harry grimaces. “Maybe,” he says appeasingly. It’s not impossible after all, but he just has a _feeling_.

Against his wishes, his mind conjures up the image of the omega. He swallows roughly, thinking about how it is increasingly obvious he is physically attracted to him. 

But he doesn’t _know_ him. 

Harry pushes those thoughts out of his brain and takes out his frustration on the dough. 

-

The moon is high and bright on the horizon when Harry enters the forest. He’s dressed identically to last time with the exception of his missing extra jacket (he had only worn it the first time to give to the omega anyway). 

He slows down as he approaches the familiar gap between trees, nerves tangling in his stomach and sweat beading at his face. He’s worried, he realizes. 

Worried that the omega won’t be there when he looks and he’ll have to worry about him from afar. Worried that since he found the omega, any other alpha could stumble in and find him too. Worried that the omega is too scared to ask for help that he’ll end up starving or freezing or _dead_ and Harry can’t do a thing about it. 

With a deep breath, he squeezes through the trees and breaks into the clearing. 

His heart drops. 

He exhales shakily, eyes scanning the area desperately and hand straining as he swings his lantern around helplessly. No matter how much he blinks and focuses, the sight doesn’t change. 

The omega isn’t here. 

He made his decision and he doesn’t want Harry’s help. 

Despite the obvious desertedness, he still walks in further. He stops before the shoreline, staring at the water as it lazily laps at the banks, the moon casting an eerie yet pretty glow over the entire thing. His heart feels heavy. 

He had been so sure… 

But then again, he doesn’t know this omega. He doesn’t know what he’s been through or what’s going on. 

With one last cursory glance over his surroundings, he sighs and turns around, grip loosening on his lantern. 

Leaves crunch underneath his boots as he drags his feet forward, body swaying in protest as he forces himself to leave. His alpha howls in discontent but he shushes it, head drooping. He doesn’t know why it’s hitting him so hard. 

Maybe because this omega could be in actual danger and Harry isn’t allowed to prote- _help._ He isn’t allowed to help him. 

He takes the final step and maneuvers his body to squeeze back out, and then, “Harry!” 

Harry freezes, limbs locking in place and ears focusing. He spins around, heart pounding. That’s-

The omega. 

“Harry, wait,” he says, stumbling forward. He’s on the opposite side of the clearing- less than thirty feet away. Thirty feet that Harry longs to cross immediately. But he holds himself back, keeping his expression smooth and hiding the relief and desperation painted across his face. The omega is wearing his jacket over the same slip as the last two times. 

But Harry doesn’t notice that because the omega is _crying._

Not tearing up or sniffling with watery eyes, he’s _sobbing._ Eyes red and puffy, lips trembling, entire body shaking as he curls into himself, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. And the sounds he’s letting out- raw and vulnerable and so painful, makes Harry want to hug him. He takes a few steps forward. 

“Hey, hey, what happened?” he asks carefully, keeping his tone even and soothing. “Are you alright? Did someone hurt you?”

The omega shakes his head, still trembling like he’s going to tip over any second. Harry takes another few steps forward, wishing he could just cross the distance between them. But he knows the omega probably wouldn’t like that. 

Or that’s what he thought initially, before the omega is barreling towards him and crashing into his chest. He makes a small sound against Harry’s shirt, a little _whimper_ that has Harry locking his arms around him automatically as his brain switches into alpha-mode. 

He’s letting off comfort pheromones, knowing scenting might just make whatever it is that’s distressing the omega worse. He keeps some distance between them, never even considering taking advantage of someone in such a vulnerable state. However, in their close proximity, he catches the wisps of the omega’s alluring scent: vanilla and lavender. Sweet and delicate like the omega himself. 

It ends up being the right choice that he kept some distance, because when the omega calms down a bit, he immediately rips himself away, stumbling back a few steps and flailing his arms panickedly. “Sorry,” he squeaks, face red. “I’m so sorry- I don’t know why I did that.” 

Harry smiles softly. “It’s okay… Are you okay though?” 

The omega’s face falls again. “No,” he stutters, sniffling again. “I didn’t mean to just fall into you like that.”

Trying not to let the shock of the omega speaking to him show on his face, Harry switches continues to reassure. “It’s really okay. Did anything happen? Are you okay?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not okay but it’s not because of this.” He gestures to his tearstained face. 

Harry hesitates, before slowly sitting down. The omega tracks his movement with a tilt of the head, before he follows. He pulls his knees to his chest and curls into himself again. Harry’s heart aches. 

“So you’re okay with me wanting to help,” prompts Harry. “Because I promise that’s all I want to do.” 

The omega nods. “I… want to try it at least.” 

Harry nods. He can handle distrust. “Can I ask you some questions?” 

It takes another minute for him to respond. “Yeah,” he says shyly.

“Do you have a home you’re staying at?” Harry starts. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies the swans from before peek their heads into the clearing from behind a tree. Odd. “Or some place safe?”

The omega smiles sadly before gesturing around him with sleeve-covered hands. “This is my home.” Harry frowns at that. “And it’s definitely not that safe but it works,” he continues sadly. 

Harry shakes his head to clear out his instincts begging him to take him somewhere safer, somewhere where Harry knows he’d be _truly_ safe. There are more important things to be discussed at the moment. “How did you get here?” 

“It’s a bit complicated… Do you know anything about magic?” 

Harry stiffens. He had been expecting the topic to arise eventually but not so soon. “I’m not the most familiar with it, no,” he says cautiously. 

The omega ducks his head, a curious and slightly dejected lilt to his tone. “So you don’t believe in it?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Harry denies.. “Especially considering…” He trails off, knowing that neither of them need a clarification. “Are you… cursed?” he asks cautiously, hating the way the word spills from his lips- abrupt, brash, and nervous. 

The omega doesn’t say anything else at first, just continuing to stare mindlessly at the forest floor. Then, “Yes.” It’s said quietly, sort of like Harry wasn’t meant to hear it. 

Harry hesitates, before getting up and taking another few steps closer. No reaction. 

He sits down again and crosses his legs, keeping his movements slow and unthreatening. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks carefully. 

He’s given an inquisitive raise of an eyebrow in return. “Remind me of your name again?”

“I’m Harry,” he says before smiling. “Harry Edwards. I live in a village nearby.” He internally winces at his choppy delivery. 

The omega winces. “It’s not… You’re not from Illana… are you?” 

He says it like he’s very familiar with the small village which means Harry can’t say yes and risk the omega figuring out his deception. “No,” he says. “I’m from Anahra.” It’s a stretch using that village but he needed something somewhat far from Illana but still close to this forest. 

The omega nods slowly. “I’ve never been there.”

 _Thank the gods_ , thinks Harry. “It’s pretty boring,” he says with a shrug, mentally hoping that it really is boring and he won’t be caught. 

The omega doesn’t respond for a little bit. “My name is Louis,” he says finally. 

Harry blinks. “Louis,” he breathes, his voice coming out deeper than intended. A name for the beautiful omega. Their eyes meet and Harry watches, entranced, as the blush forms on the omega’s cheeks. 

Louis clears his throat. “I didn’t believe in magic before,” he gulps, “… but then I was cursed by a sorcerer…”

Harry waits, body tensing. 

“He doomed me to be a swan by day and a human by night,” he continues quietly. Harry grimaces when he opens his mouth again. “That was two years ago now.” 

Harry doesn’t know what to say. _Two years_ . Louis has been trapped like this for _two whole years_. Horror grows inside him as he imagines how difficult and lonely it must have been. There are no words to express his revulsion and sympathy. 

“I’m sorry,” he chooses eventually. “I’m not trying to give you pity, but I’m unbelievably sorry this happened to you…” He hesitates. “If you don’t mind me asking, _why_ did he curse you?”

Louis bites his lip. “I rejected his proposal.”

Something twists in Harry’s heart. “Oh,” he says helplessly. 

“And then he cursed me,” Louis adds bitterly. “And my friends.” He gestures to the swans who have fully entered the clearing and moved to flank Louis protectively. They squawk in reply. 

Harry blinks. “Your friends?”

Louis points to them in turn, “Perrie, Jesy, Jade, and Leigh-Anne.”

“Mon dieu,” Harry breathes, astonished. “They were cursed too?”

“Yes, except they don’t turn into humans at night,” says Louis sadly. “It’s supposed to be a punishment for me. I can understand what they’re saying but they can’t understand what I’m saying, at least verbally.” 

Harry studies the creatures, blanching when he realizes he can recognize traces of human emotion in their small black eyes. “That’s… horrible.” 

“Yeah,” Louis says weakly, clasping his hands. 

Heart clenching at the obvious resignation in Louis' tone, Harry presses gently. “And there’s no way to stop this curse? What about your family?”

Louis flinches. “My family doesn’t remember me,” he says quietly. “Another side effect of the curse. As for breaking the curse… the only way to do that is if someone who’s never loved before, falls in love with me.” 

“Wow,” Harry says, feeling an indescribable feeling of distress and sorrow claw up his throat. 

“Yeah, sort of difficult when I’m a swan by day and a defenceless, isolated human by night,” Louis says sadly. 

“What have you been eating?” Harry asks worriedly. 

Louis turns bright red, ducking his head and mumbling, “Whatever swans eat.” He looks embarrassed so Harry sends him a small smile.

“As long as you’re not starving,” he murmurs. “What about sleeping?” 

The omega shrugs. “I don’t really need to sleep but I do take naps sometimes.” He falls silent. 

Harry hesitates for a moment, careful not to push him too far, but opens his mouth once more. “Who did this to you?” 

The omega shudders. “Rothbart,” he says flatly. “His name is Von Rothbart. He’s a sorcerer and he lived in my village. He comes to see me every month and asks me to marry him again in exchange for my salvation but I say no every time. He was here earlier tonight, that’s why I was crying.” 

Bile rises in Harry’s throat. “I’m sorry,” he says again, unable to articulate the mixture of revulsion, sympathy, and anger he feels. Earlier tonight… if Harry had come sooner-

“Does he hurt you?” he asks next, scared to hear the answer. 

Louis shakes his head. “Not physically.”

It doesn’t do anything to dampen the indignation Harry feels. “That’s… messed up,” he says lamely. “And there’s no other way to stop him?”

He receives another headshake, hopelessness shown across every feature of the omega's face. “Not that I know of.” 

Harry frowns, anger at the injustice growing slowly. “I didn’t even know magic existed before last night,” he confesses after a minute passes. He glances back at Louis who’s fidgeting with his jacket sleeves. Harry’s heart pangs again. 

“Neither did I, before,” Louis admits, shrugging. “Until he pulled his staff on me. I always thought it was just a cane.” 

Harry shakes his head, disgusted and still angry. “But… there has to be another way. Does-” he hesitates, “Does killing him break the curse?”

Louis frowns. “Nope, if he dies then I’ll be stuck like this forever.” 

“Oh,” says Harry. It’s not like he was seriously considering it but… either way it doesn’t matter. “I’m… sorry.” He winces, then gives an awkward, self-deprecating laugh. “I keep saying that.” 

“It’s okay,” says Louis kindly. He adjusts slightly, hugging his knees to his chest now and leaving his bare lower legs and delicate ankles on display. Harry averts his eyes. 

“I wish I could do something to help,” he says honestly, not bothering to hide his frustration. 

Louis huffs out a breath. “I appreciate that but trust me, there’s nothing else you can do. You already gave me a jacket and I’m grateful for that.”

“It’s really not a problem, I want you to be okay,” says Harry unabashedly. “And I don’t need it anyway.” He knows he’s supposed to be playing the role of a villager who probably wouldn’t give away his most likely sole jacket to a stranger like he did, but he refuses to let Louis try to give it back. 

Louis blushes and Harry gets the urge, once again, to immortalize the sight so he can see it first thing in the morning and last thing before sleep. 

“Will you tell me more about yourself?” Harry asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and getting more comfortable on the floor of the forest. 

The omega scoffs lightly. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping now? Do you have a job? You can’t just waste your night talking to me.” 

_It’s not a waste._ “M’not working tomorrow,” says Harry dismissively. It’s technically not a lie. He’s got a lunch function at noon but he can always easily sleep in until 11 before he really has to get ready. 

Louis raises an elegant eyebrow but doesn’t challenge him. “What do you want to know?”

Harry narrows his eyes thoughtfully. If this is his only chance to ask questions, he plans to take full advantage. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” Louis says, resting his head over his folded legs. He juts his chin out from over his knees. “What about you?”

Harry hadn’t been expecting him to be the same age as him, considering the youthful glint in his eye and his innocent features. “Same,” he reveals. “My birthday was the day I first found you.”

Louis looks surprised at this. “Happy late birthday,” he murmurs. 

“Thanks,” Harry says, grinning. “When was yours?”

"Christmas Eve," Louis murmurs, smiling sadly. 

“Oh,” Harry says, realizing that Louis must have spent his birthday and then Christmas all by himself. He must spend _every_ holiday by himself. It suddenly doesn’t seem so odd that Louis’ first instinct was to hug him when he was distressed despite them not knowing each other well. He must be severely deprived of touch. 

Touch depri is very dangerous for omegas especially when it drags on too long… Especially for _two years_. Another wave of indignation courses through him. “Gods, where does this guy live again?”

Louis shakes his head, looking panicked. “Don’t even joke about that. And don’t even consider going after Rothbart, he’s too dangerous.” 

Harry frowns, “Well, I’m not exactly keen on letting him get away with this. You’re an unmated omega living alone in the forest with no protection. You may be hidden somewhat but I found you fairly easily which means another alpha could as well.” 

The omega blanches, ducking his head. “You’re right…. Except I can’t leave the forest when I’m a swan.”

“What?” Harry asks, confused. 

“I can leave right now as a human, but I’ll have to be back here by the time I transform into a swan or else I die.” 

“What?” repeats Harry again, alarmed. 

Louis shakes his head. “He added that part of the curse later on after I tried to escape where he couldn’t find me. He’s basically trapped me here.”

The rage festering inside of him grows. How could anyone harm this omega? This innocent omega who hasn’t done anything wrong except not wanting to marry someone who’s obviously a psychopath. “Now I _really_ need to know his address.”

“Hurting or killing him won’t do anything except makes things worse, remember?” says Louis bitterly. 

“So, what,” Harry reasons, “You have to find someone to fall in love with you?” 

Louis snorts. “I can’t really do that.” 

“Maybe you can.” At Louis’ inquisitive look, he continues, “What about taverns?”

Louis sends him an unimpressed look. “You want me to fall in love… at a tavern?”

Harry shrugs. “Love can happen anywhere.”

“But…” Louis trails off, looking unsure. “It wouldn’t be smart for me to go to one of those places as an unmated omega, remember?”

“Well, obviously I’d come with you,” says Harry before thinking it through. They stare at each other. 

“You would?” asks Louis, looking skeptical. “Why?”

“Why not? I’m an alpha and I’m not going to hurt you,” says Harry. “I want to help you.” 

“You’d willingly travel from your village, which is pretty far away and I’m not even sure how you got here -”

“I’m pretty fast,” Harry offers, keeping his expression neutral. 

Louis narrows his eyes at him. “ _Okay_ , you’d willingly travel from your village at night to escort me to a tavern which is probably another long walk so I can find someone to fall in love with me even though everyone there is probably expecting something fleeting?”

“Yes,” Harry says. “And not everyone there wants a hook-up. I’ve heard plenty of stories about people meeting their significant other at taverns. Hell, my sister met her boyfriend at a tavern and they’re practically engaged.” They’d be engaged already if he had been born of nobility. Instead, they’re facing scorn from all the newspapers in the country and are hiding out at Michal’s family’s house until things die down.

Louis frowns. “I don’t know about this.”

“You don’t trust me,” Harry guesses. 

The omega doesn’t answer, but they both get the point. 

“How about this, we can go if you start to trust me,” says Harry. “Until then, I’m not just going to abandon you. I’ll be checking in on you.”

“Checking in on me?” asks Louis flatly. “What does that mean?” 

“Like, coming to see you,” says Harry. He hesitates, knowing he sounds slightly crazy. It’s been maybe half an hour and he’s already volunteering to sneak out of the castle frequently and walk six miles to the forest to talk to this omega he barely knows. But he can’t help it. His alpha wants to make sure Louis is okay. He’s unprotected and vulnerable here all by himself, and that knowledge sends his alpha into a frenzy, rendering him into his baser instincts to take care of, protect, provide for. _._

Right now, Louis has no one. And there’s no one else Harry could trust to help him (or that his _alpha_ would trust). “I really want to help you,” he confesses. “If you want,” he adds nervously. Obviously if Louis told him no, he’d leave and never come back - or maybe he’d find a way to pull in a favor from someone to monitor the forest and make sure nothing happens to Louis, but he wouldn’t intervene too much. 

Louis blinks at him, face filled with disbelief. “Who _are_ you?” 

He looks relieved though, so Harry smiles. “Hopefully,” he pauses, eyes running the length of Louis’ face softly illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the trees, “A friend.” 

Gods know they could both use one of those. 

-

Harry wakes up right as the sheets are flung off of him, exposing his naked body to the cool air of the room. He groans, rolling over to smush the side of his face into the mattress and cover his ears in preparation from what he assumes will soon become a verbal attack. 

He’s exhausted, understandably so. Even if the forest isn’t as far from the castle as it is from Anahra, it’s still _far._ And it took him a while to get back. The sun was rising in the sky by the time he lowered himself into the tunnels again, a grin still painted onto his face after talking to Louis. 

If he could have, he probably would have stayed even longer, but Louis had ushered him away when the sky turned pale, panic bleeding into his voice. Harry assumes he’s uncomfortable with his transformation being witnessed. Harry had caught the change before completely unintentionally but he’s certain it’s worse the other way around when he's forced to lose his humanity as. the sun reaches its throne up above. It’s something personal and vulnerable, and Harry respects that. 

However, he really _doesn’t_ respect the glass of freezing cold water dumped over his face. He sputters, sitting up abruptly and brushing his soaking hair from his eyes. He meets the eyes of a smirking Nessa and glares. 

“Good to have you back, your highness,” she says mockingly. 

Harry scowls. “When I didn’t see you for the past two days, I assumed someone finally fired you for harassing innocent royals.” He’s joking of course. Nessa started working at the castle when he was seventeen and they quickly became friends- it’s good to see that four years hasn’t changed her attitude towards him. 

She tutts, “I only harass the annoying ones.”

With a sigh, Harry gets up and takes the towel that is offered to him by the other, shyer maid- Josie. She’s new but Harry always makes sure to know the names of his staff. They have to deal with him at his worst so the least he can do is address them properly. 

Then he walks to the wardrobe, stark naked. 

It used to feel weird to him, but now he’s just accepted it. Like his future and love life, even his body is no longer his own. 

He showers and tries to rub the sleep from his eyes, then gets dressed. Nessa and Josie fuss over him until he brushes them off, promising that he knows how to brush his hair and he’s been doing it himself for the past four years. 

It’s still trimmed short on the sides from his last mandatory haircut, but it’s beginning to grow again and Harry is considering growing it out long like it used to be when he was younger. 

He makes it down just minutes before the function begins. His father sends him a warning glance which he replies to with an obligatory smile. He kisses his mother on the cheek and then goes around to shake the hands of the photographers, staff, and other random people milling around. All of the people who spend so much time and effort in making their family look competent and beautiful. 

What a task. 

The function itself somehow manages to drag on a total of four hours, two more than the scheduled timing. Harry isn’t surprised. These things always run late. The photoshoot takes too long because they can’t find the best lighting or background or- _gods forbid_ \- Lady Cartier’s chartreuse dress clashes with the greenery (if she wears a color with such a pretentious name, she may as well just ask for karma to kick her ass, in Harry’s humble opinion- but then again, he’s always grouchy after these things), they wait too long for the food so it goes cold and the have to get all of it completely replaced, or worst of all, someone brings up trade affairs and they never leave the table at all. 

He’s exhausted when he gets out, so he grabs Liam and they go swimming in the royal family private lake. Yes, that exists. Harry would be lying if he said his family's wealth didn't disgust him from time to time. 

They’re soaking in the water, leaning their heads back lazily and just resting when Liam brings it up. “Don’t you get sick of it?”

Harry keeps his eyes shut, breathing in deeply through his chest and exhaling through his parted lips. “Sick of what?”

“All of this,” says Liam quietly, like he’s trying not to disturb the peace.

“Elaborate, Payne,” Harry says, amusement in his voice. 

“Like… playing this part. Having to go to these functions and plaster on a smile and pretend to care about everyone’s new ballgown or racing pony,” says Liam disgustedly. “Of having to watch yourself at all times and basically be two people at once.”

Harry sighs. “Of-fucking-course I get sick of it. I _am_ sick of it. All. The. Time.” 

“But…” says Liam with a matching sigh. 

“But I have no choice,” finishes Harry, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. 

Liam winces in sympathy. “Well, at least you can make changes when you become king.”

Harry shrugs. “Yeah, I’ll do my best but you _do_ realize that everyone’s going to be standing in my way right?”

“How do you mean?”

“The ideas I have… they go against tradition and how this kingdom has been run for decades,” says Harry slowly. “It’s completely unlike the way that my father ruled.” 

Liam purses his lips and thinks quietly for a moment,“I think that’s a good thing actually,” he says. “Especially for the people. They’ve been wanting change for just as long.”

Harry nods. “It’s not them I’m worried about.” No, he’s worried about the nobles, the advisors, the government officials… Everyone who profits off the current system and would rather lie or abuse the general public in order to keep that allowance. 

“Wanna know what I think?” Liam asks, an optimistic tone seeping into his voice. . 

“Sure.”

“I think you’ll find a way to beat them,” says Liam. “Because you’re determined and smart and passionate and you have a bunch of people on your side.” 

Harry smiles despite himself. “I wish I could be optimistic like you.”

“So why aren’t you?” Liam asks with a shrug, as if it’s that easy

Harry doesn’t answer, mind drifting beyond their conversation to quiet dusty hallways and moonlit forests far, far away from here. 

-

Even though he wanted to, he was unable to visit Louis that night. The Earl and Countess of Negligea arrived unannounced and Harry had to entertain their alpha son in the parlor. They played pool and talked about unimportant things like upcoming races, trade, and relations with neighboring kingdoms. Neither of them wanted to be there but they both played their parts well into the night while their parents had drinks and shared false compliments. 

By the time he escaped up to his room, it was close to three in the morning which meant he wouldn’t be able to sneak out, walk to the forest, and then have to walk back before six in the morning when everyone would expect him to be up to go for a morning run. 

So he collapses into bed and tries not to think about the omega from the forest, alone and cold and scared and yet still somehow, Harry knows without even having to be there, strikingly beautiful in the company of the stars.

His heart aches well into his dreams. 

-

Louis is humming when Harry arrives. He’s on his back, legs and arms splayed out lazily on the ground. He’s wearing Harry’s jacket which is slipping down around his shoulders, his eyes closed and his hair tousled and soft. 

Harry sucks in a breath, feeling a peculiar weight settle in his stomach. 

He clears his throat, smiling when Louis sits up and blushes. 

“Hey,” he says, sitting down a good ten feet away. He’s going to respect Louis’ distrust and unease until the omega changes his mind. 

“Salut,” Louis replies, still blushing. Harry doesn’t know why he finds that so endearing. And the fact that Louis used the casual form of greeting, instead of the formal one makes his heart swell. It means Louis is beginning to trust him more.

“How are you today?” he asks, hiding his smile.

Louis shrugs, looking shy. Harry gladly fills up the silence. 

“I’ve had kind of a boring day myself,” he continues. He _will_ get Louis to talk, he promises himself. “Work was bland and then me and a friend went to a local training club and fenced.”

“Fenced?” Louis questions. 

Harry stills. “Yeah, they’re offering fencing, can you believe it?” he says, laughing awkwardly. He curses himself internally. While fencing is becoming more and more accessible, it’s still very unlikely that a random guy from a small village would get to learn.

Louis doesn’t say anything, thank the gods. “I didn’t really do anything today,” he says quietly. “Swans are very easily preoccupied.” 

“What about now, what do you do when you’re human?” Harry asks. 

Louis shrugs. “Lay around, swim, and…” He breaks off, looking bashful. 

“And what?” asks Harry curiously. 

“I paint,” he says. 

“Paint?” echoes Harry. “You have…”

“I broke into my old room and got all my old stuff more than a year ago,” he says, sounding ashamed. “It wasn’t that big of a deal because my entire family just ignored that room anyway- another caveat of the curse.” 

He gestures to the rocky overhang that juts out into the water. “I have my belongings set up there- my paints, some paper, a few books.”

Harry waits. 

“But I don’t feel like painting,” says Louis hurriedly. Harry nods. So Louis doesn’t want to show him- he understands of course, but he’s a little disappointed. 

_It’s only been a couple of days_ , he reminds himself. 

“What do you want to do?” he asks carefully. 

Louis hugs his knees to his chest. “I was thinking… can we go for a walk?”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry says. He gets up and holds out a hand to help Louis up. The omega stares at it with pursed lips and he retracts it lamely, clearing his throat. “Do you have a route you usually go?” 

Louis nods so Harry lets him lead the way. They exit back through the trees until they’re on the forest path. Louis takes off ahead and Harry follows closely, but not too close. Louis’ friends waddle along behind them, apparently not keen with the idea of Louis leaving. 

Harry stays silent the entire way. He feels like Louis is trying to show him something and he won’t do anything to compromise that. 

Despite it being almost pitch black around them, Louis doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t even need the beam of Harry’s lantern to guide him. Harry wonders if his eyesight has improved significantly as an effect from the curse, or if maybe it’s just because he’s been living in the dark for nearly two years. 

They walk for about half a mile, the terrain slowly sloping upwards as Louis leads them up a hill. Harry exhales when they reach the peak, blinking at the vast night sky. Millions upon millions of stars blink down at them. Harry has seen stars before obviously- he sees them every night from his bedroom window. 

But being here, out in nature with no other sounds except the light breaths of him and Louis, it feels incredible new and extraordinary. 

“This is my favorite part of the forest,” says Louis. He sits down on a flat rock. Harry follows cautiously.

“It’s beautiful,” Harry says honestly. He takes a seat a few feet away, watching out of the corner of his eye as the swans huddle around Louis like children with a mother. “It feels silly but… I feel like I haven’t really paid that much attention to the stars. They’re truly phenomenal aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” breathes Louis. “Neither have I, really. Until all of this happened. My mum used to point out the constellations when I was young… the Alpha wolf god and Omega she-wolf goddess. And the pack constellations. She showed me the prophet, witch, and sorceress too, but she didn’t believe in it like the others. No one did.” 

“I don’t even remember learning about those,” confesses Harry. He’s learned plenty of other things. Proper table etiquette, horseback riding, fencing, ballroom dancing, trade negotiations, and more, but no stories or tales. Nothing that’s only spread by word of mouth and family love. 

It sounds utterly depressing now that he thinks about it. 

“I love the stars,” Louis sighs. “No matter how horrible things are, they’re still up there shining and bringing light in the darkness. Same with the moon- my mother used to say the moon is the mother of all stars.” 

Harry hums his acknowledgement. “Makes sense.” 

Louis points out into the distance where Harry can just barely make out a few dim lights. “That’s the castle.”

He freezes, exhaling roughly. “Oh,” he says. “Nice.”

“It’s much prettier in the day time but I never get to see it anymore,” Louis says sadly. 

Harry shifts uncomfortably. He clears his throat. “What do you think about the royal family?”

Louis shrugs. “I dunno really. I think they seem nice, but as expected- they couldn’t care less about people like us.”

Harry nods slowly. “You feel that way?” 

Louis’ eyes slide over to him, looking surprised. “You don’t? It’s obvious most policies in the kingdom are suited to the well-off. People like us struggle to find jobs and make enough money to bring food to the table, while they all live in luxury… I guess I’m not sure anymore though. Maybe they’ve changed- it’s been two years since I’ve kept up with that stuff.”

Harry clears his throat. “They haven’t really changed,” he says awkwardly. “Not enough.”

Louis nods. “I feel like the queen seems really kind and genuine.”

Harry’s head snaps up in surprise. “Yeah,” he says, trying to tamp down his eagerness. “She is- I mean, she does.”

“They always used to talk about how much she does for charity in the papers,” continues Louis. “And it always came across as her genuinely caring. She supervised the building of a better school in my village actually.”

Harry bites down his smile. “That’s nice.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t know her personally,” says Louis. “And she’s an omega, which means the newspapers won’t ever pay attention to her beyond her relation to the king and her charitable omega qualities.”

Harry frowns. “Yeah…” He purses his lips, knowing he might be making a mistake. “What do you think about the prince?” 

“Prince Harry?” Louis wonders. 

Harry nods, throat suddenly dry. Louis looks thoughtful but with every passing second, Harry’s heart picks up faster and faster. 

“He seems… interesting,” Louis says finally. 

Harry resists the urge to flinch. “Interesting... how so?”

“I dunno,” says Louis, shaking his head. “He seemed so innocent and kind when he was younger - well, when _we_ were younger. But after that whole scandal thing… it was like he lost his light.”

Harry swallows. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Louis shoots him an assessing look, “You kind of look like him you know.”

“I do?” asks Harry, sweating nervously. 

“Yeah… same name and you look alike, crazy. Except your hair is much shorter and you’re…” he trails off, gesturing vaguely. He blushes, “Bigger.”

Harry smirks, smug at Louis’ admission (and his blush) and relieved that Louis still hasn’t recognized him. “It’d be nice to be a prince,” he says, words feeling a little bit sticky with the awareness that he’s deceiving this innocent, kind omega. But how exactly can he confess now? 

Louis has fallen completely silent, blinking up at the night sky like he’s staring at the entire universe ahead of him. 

Harry tries to pay attention too, but he ends up watching the constellations in the omega’s eyes more than he watches any of the constellations above. 

-

Emmaline Durand. Antonie Beaumont. Victoria Travers. Amélie Leblanc. Henry Jacob Bennett. Allison Elizabeth Marie Phillips. Tarquin Trevor Taylor (the Third). Geneviève Amandine Marseille. Garrett Carter Shaw. Elodie Archambault. Mathieu Levasseur. Sebastian Rossignol. 

Twelve omegas of high society. 

That is what Harry has narrowed it down to from the initial thirty-two nearly nine weeks before the ball. 

His father had demanded he choose his top twelve to invite along with their families and the usual Styles Ball crowd. Harry is also expected to continue letter correspondences with every single one of them, s. Simultaneously. 

They want him to make a decision based off of the always vague letters he receives that detail frivolous stuff such as the weather or the latest purchase they’ve made. Harry can’t really blame them for the dull topics, his own letters are just as bland- endless musings on the weather, the various events and functions he’s attending, and long, drawn-out rambles about activities like horseback riding or fencing. Here, at least, it’s just safer to talk about what he _knows_. 

He goes back to see Louis twice during the past week. They spend both nights back on the hillside where Louis pointed out more constellations and slowly opened up about his past life, giving Harry a small glimpse of who _Louis Tomlinson_ is. However, every time he revealed something he would often go silent and twitchy afterward, still obviously somewhat uncomfortable in Harry’s presence. It was disappointing but expected.

Well, Harry can wait. 

But what he _has_ learned just makes him even more impatient. Louis has four sisters and he’s the oldest and sometimes it feels like a sentence he can’t escape. He’d been studying to be a teacher because he wanted to help make money for their family but he really secretly wanted to paint. Louis had a garden in his backyard which he’s afraid has wilted now, much like his formerly bright and optimistic outlook. 

Harry thinks about Louis crouching down, surrounded by a bed of flowers with a look of concentration on his face as he tended to a plant. The thought sends a warm feeling running through him, especially when he pictures himself by his side. 

Brushing those strange ideas out of mind, he finishes off his final letter addressed to Lord Rossignol. He’s the youngest of the group- only seventeen for god’s sake, but he’s also one of the highest in rank. Harry would never feel comfortable marrying someone who isn’t of age, even though it’s legal and actually quite common. It just doesn't feel right. Not to mention, all he knows about him from their letter exchange is that apparently he embroiders a lot… as in _all day long._

Harry wonders if Louis embroiders. 

He blinks. 

Yikes. 

_Don’t think about Louis_ , he chides himself. He scribbles out a signature and seals another envelope, adding it to the stack. Slumping back in his chair, he sighs. 

“What a surprise.” 

Harry jumps, hissing as his leg hits the underside of the table. He spins around and glares at Richard as he saunters into the room.

“His royal highness, sighing in boredom like he’s fucking twelve,” the alpha sneers.

“What the fuck are you doing here? You do realize you don’t live here right? Because you’ll never be anything but a _lord_ ,” he spits, rolling his eyes. 

Richard’s eyes flash in annoyance. “Now his royal highness is resorting to petty insults, _charming_.” 

“And you’re narrating everything I’m doing as if you’re paying very close attention,” Harry says scathingly. “I have to say, I’m not that surprised that you’re obsessed with me.” 

The alpha snorts. “In your dreams.”

“Trust me, my dreams aren’t filled with your pretentious face,” says Harry with a smirk. He stands up and crosses his arms. “Is there a reason you’re stalking me on top of recording everything I say?” 

His question is predictably met with a scowl. “His majesty and I were just having a chat,” says Richard, grinning sickeningly. “He tells me that you’re struggling to pick an omega. Isn’t that embarrassing?”

“It’s because I have so many options,” Harry quips back. “I know you’re not very familiar with the struggle but-”

“Shut up,” Richard hisses. His face is turning hilariously red and Harry can’t bite back his smile. “I told his majesty that I would give you some _advice_.” 

Harry raises an eyebrow, blood boiling unavoidably. “And what’s your advice, pray tell?” 

“Here’s my advice: I think you need to pick someone who has the capability to run a kingdom, because the gods know you won’t be able to pull it off,” snarls Richard. “Even an omega could rule better than you.” 

Somehow, they’ve breached most of the distance in between them. Harry’s well aware he’s radiating a lot of threatening pheromones and Richard is doing the same. Scent, and specifically _strength_ of scent, has always been a pivotal concept for asserting dominance and superiority. Harry notes with some satisfaction, his scent is overpowering the other bastard’s. 

Richard seems to notice, scowling hatefully. 

Harry leans in closer, eyes narrowed. “Here’s _my_ advice: I think you need to get it through that thick brain of yours that you are not and won’t _ever_ be king. One day, I will be coronated and you’ll be watching as my father puts the crown on _my_ head and swears me in with the witness of all the subjects in the capital. One day, you’ll have to bow every time you enter a room I’m present in. You’ll have to call me, ‘your majesty’ and you’ll have to obey my every command.” His nostrils flare as Richard begins to back down slightly in indignation. He smirks. “I will be king one day, and when that day comes, I’ll remember this, _Dick._ ” 

He pulls back and smiles winningly. “Have a good day Lord Waters.” He strides to the door, leaving Richard standing there, shaking with anger. Harry and Richard have had plenty of arguments or stand-offs in the past, but none have felt as satisfying as this. 

Harry’s always held himself back with saying what he wants to- a habit he initially developed as protection from media harassment and judgement that had unfortunately transmitted to other parts of his life unintentionally. But not right now. Right now, he’s tired of biting his tongue. 

He pauses, looking over his shoulder. “And any omega could rule this kingdom better than you and it has nothing to do with their gender. Maybe you should stop taking your own self-discontent out on a different gender because you don’t know how to accept your own shortcomings.”

-

The moon is mostly overcast in the sky when Harry steps out of the castle, which means he has to rely on his lantern as he goes to visit Louis again. 

He ducks into the clearing, mouth opening to call out a greeting. Stopping short, confusion begins to cloud his brain as he takes in the sight of Louis. He’s standing in the middle of the clearing, dressed in his usual outfit of his slip, Harry’s jacket, and no shoes. Except, he’s crossing his arms and glaring at Harry. 

“Hello,” says Harry slowly. He takes a tentative step forward, watching as Louis scowls at him. “Is everything alright?” 

“Not exactly, _your royal highness_ ,” Louis sneers. 

Harry freezes. Well, shit. 

“Louis, I-”

“Why did you lie to me?” the omega interrupts. The worst part is that Harry can _hear_ the hurt in his voice and it makes his alpha growl in guilt. 

Harry winces, taking a few steps forward. Louis takes a few steps back, still glaring at him reproachfully. “I’m so sorry Louis, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t want to lie but if anyone found out-”

“That you were talking to an unmated omega in the woods- it would be another scandal,” finishes Louis. He sounds less mad, but still bitter as he mutters to himself. “And I was beginning to trust you too.”

His alpha growls again. “I’m so sorry,” says Harry sadly. “Please, at least know that I never lied about anything else, especially helping you. I care about you.” 

“You don’t even know me,” Louis implores. He’s shrinking into himself and Harry hates that he made him feel like that. 

_I want to,_ he thinks _._ “I’m beginning to,” he says aloud. “And I’ll keep proving to you that I’m trustworthy, you’ll see.” 

Louis shakes his head. “How am I supposed to believe you?”

Harry groans. “I’ve never done anything to you disrespect or hurt you, have I?”

The omega opens his mouth to retort, then pauses and frowns. “No, you haven’t. Go on.”

Harry grimaces, racking his brain. The omega is going to make him work for it, for fuck’s sake. “I’ve done my best to help you already and I already told you about what I want to do for you in the future. None of that has changed.”

No reply. 

He drags a hand through his hair, upset. “I know I betrayed your trust and I understand that you’re upset, but you have to understand- I quite literally sneak out of my room and the castle, as in _past all of my guards_ , to come visit you. I endanger myself and my reputation to come help you. And I’m not complaining, I’m not! I want to do all these things. But to think that I would intentionally betray you like this, is ridiculous,” he says impatiently. “I can’t- I’m not leaving you now, Louis, not unless you tell me to.” 

Louis’s face is emotionless, but he’s stopped glaring so Harry remains hopeful. 

Waiting patiently, he raises his lantern so he can see Louis’ face properly. The light casts a beam over Louis’ eyes as they flutter shut and Harry watches in horror as Louis’ face crumples. 

He rushes for the omega, distress rising inside him. “Louis - Lou, are you okay?” he asks worriedly. His hands twitch with the urge to reach out and pull the omega into his arms. Louis shudders full-body and Harry frets. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for lying- I’ll leave, I promise. If it makes you feel better, I’ll leave and -”

“No,” Louis interrupts brokenly. His voice cracks and Harry’s heart drops. “Don’t leave, I don’t want you to leave.” 

Harry opens his mouth to reply but Louis isn’t finished. 

“If you leave, I’ll be alone again,” Louis whimpers. He’s shaking and he looks like he’s going to tip over. Harry takes the risk and slips his arms around Louis’ middle, dropping his head down to rest on the omega’s. Louis slumps in his hold, face planting into his shirt. He lets out a choked sob, sound muffled by Harry’s chest. “I’ll miss you if you leave.”

“I’d miss you too,” Harry says, heart cracking with guilt and discontent. “I’m not leaving if you don’t want me to, remember?” 

“I don’t want you to,” Louis says firmly. One of his hands comes up to fist itself in Harry’s shirt and he sniffles again. “I didn’t mean to cry. I just feel so emotional all the time- I get so lonely,” he sniffles. 

“I think that’s justified given your situation,” Harry says softly. “I’m so sorry, Lou.” He didn’t mean to start calling him that but now that it’s slipped out it feels incredibly _right_. 

“I forgive you,” Louis admits quietly. “I’m mad, but I understand.”

Harry rests his chin on Louis’ head, breathing in the lovely scent of lavender and vanilla. “How did you even find out?”

“After we talked about it that one time, I walked to the nearest town and found a newspaper. The front page was ‘Prince Harry Styles returns from his time in service’. I was quite shocked when I saw your face staring back at me,” Louis says dryly. “I guess it should have been obvious before but I haven’t been too ingrained in society in the past couple of years so I’m giving myself a free pass.” 

Harry winces. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep saying that.” Louis admonishes, pinching Harry’s side. 

“I’m still sorry,” Harry counters. He retaliates by squeezing Louis tighter. 

It isn’t really a counter, he begrudgingly admits to himself, so much as an excuse to have the omega closer. Not for the first time, Harry wonders just how much his blatant infatuation with Louis is going to affect things between them. 

It’s not anything new. Harry’s always been one of those who fell hard and fell fast for someone. Nothing ever came from it… well except once, but that ended up being a disaster so it’s just more proof that Harry doesn’t do well when it comes to attraction and relationships. 

He bites down a growl when Louis angles his head to the side, exposing part of his neck. Especially _sexual_ attraction, fuck. 

“Is this weird?” Louis asks, voice still muffled and small. “I feel like my omega is going to yell at me if I let go, but this has definitely stretched on past the length of a normal hug.” 

Harry shakes his head amusedly. Here he was thinking they wouldn’t acknowledge stuff like this. Except Louis seems completely oblivious- it’s almost endearing. The way he blushes so easily and doesn’t notice when Harry stares at him just a bit hungrily. “You have touch depri,” he says. 

“Oh,” Louis says. He stiffens. “Shit, I never thought about that, Harry. Isn’t that dangerous?” He pulls back a little, looking up at Harry with panicked eyes. “One of the omegas in my village had touch depri and she got really sick.”

Harry grimaces. “It can be dangerous yeah, but you don’t seem sick. Even when you were walking around without a jacket. Maybe your immune system is stronger because of the curse?”

The omega snorts. “You think he added something actually beneficial to the terms of the curse?” He pauses to scowl. “Actually, I bet he did. He doesn’t want me to get sick or die because he’d rather watch me suffer like this. Sadistic bastard.” 

Anger courses through Harry again, but he pushes it down and instead pulls Louis back into a hug. “Either way, you need more physical contact.” _This isn’t an excuse to touch him more,_ Harry reasons with himself. He only wants to make sure the omega is healthy _._

Louis hums his assent, nestling into the space between Harry’s neck and shoulder. Harry tries to diminish the excess of pheromones he’s releasing but he’s not very successful since Louis whispers bashfully, “You smell good.”

Harry hides his smile in Louis’ hair. “What do I smell like?”

“You smell like the forest,” Louis says quietly. “Like the trees and apples.”

“Apples?” Harry asks amusedly. He’s never heard that before. 

Louis blushes, nodding timidly. 

Eventually they break apart and go on their usual walk. Louis seems a lot more relaxed but Harry continues to glance at him out of the corner of his eye worriedly until Louis tells him to calm down. 

“Is it difficult?” Louis asks when they stop at the crest of the same hill and take their usual seats on the smooth rocks. 

Harry leans back on his forearms lazily and raises an eyebrow. He’s pretty sure he knows what the omega means, but he’s not going to let Louis get away with his limited talking if he can help it. 

“Being the heir to the kingdom,” Louis offers. “Obviously, you’ve lived your whole life in luxury and you’re incredibly privileged… but there was that whole scandal about you and…” He trails off, turning red. Harry smirks. 

“Yeah, well I wish people would mind their business about me more, but other than that I can’t really complain. You’re right- I’m completely privileged and everything hard has been kept from me my entire life until I spent time in the service,” says Harry. 

“How was that?” Louis asks curiously. 

Harry shrugs. “It was… different. Different from anything I had ever experienced before- and much, much harder. I was an ordinary guy there. I had to train with hundreds of other alphas and some betas and none of us were treated specially. It was enlightening I’d say.” 

“Do you miss it?” Louis wonders aloud. 

“To be honest… yes,” admits Harry. “Things were a lot simpler there.” He thinks about council meetings and his impending engagement and the other standards and expectations that have been placed on him since birth and that will never really go away, even when he becomes king. “I miss it every day.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis murmurs. 

“What for?”

The omega shrugs. “I just am. I’m not going to pity you- you’re a prince and you’ll never have to worry about food, water, or money in your life, but I’m still sorry for what you have to go through on your own.” 

Harry doesn’t know what to say to that. “I want you to know that when I become king, I intend to be different,” he says slowly. “Especially when it comes to omega and beta rights. I don’t agree with the class system at all.”

Louis smiles at him. “I believe you.”

For some reason, Louis’ words mean more to Harry than any assurance he’s ever been given. It sounds a thousand times more genuine than anything he’s heard at the castle, unfamiliar peace settling in his gut for the first time in months. Just before they round back to Louis’ corner of the forest, Harry grazes the back of his hand against Louis’ and hopes it offers much the same type of comfort. 

-

Considering how easy it had been over the past few weeks, Harry really should have known there was trouble on the horizon. 

In this case, the obstacles come in the form of a week-long celebration for Harry’s father: dancing, singing, concerts, festivities, contests, galas, and a lot of pomp and luxury. 

It couldn’t be worse timing considering how it’s only been a few days since Louis found out his true identity and their relationship morphed into something stronger, yet still so painstakingly delicate. He doesn’t want to do anything to endanger their fragile trust and peace but he has no choice but to stay away. 

However, the first night after the celebrations finally die down, he’s up and heading to the forest. Louis looks relieved when he sees him, sitting by the water’s edge with his toes submerged in the depths. 

“I thought you weren’t going to come back,” says Louis, voice cracking with distress. 

Harry winces, setting the lantern down on the sandy bank before slipping off his shoes and socks. He rolls up his trousers and dips his feet into the water as he sits beside the omega. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “It was my father’s birthday yesterday and _of course_ that means he needs to celebrate for six days leading up to it.” 

Louis shakes his head. “I’m not mad, I’m just glad you’re here.” He ducks his head. “Last week was rough without you.”

“Me too,” breathes Harry, feeling an unfamiliar weight in his chest at the idea of Louis feeling better- or _safer_ when Harry’s with him. “Is there anything you want to do tonight?”

Louis blushes. “Yes… but you don’t have to do it!”

“Do what?” urges Harry. He’s pretty sure he’ll agree to anything Louis suggests, no matter how dull or outlandish. 

He ducks his head again and Harry can’t see it, but he’s fairly sure there’s a light blush coating his cheeks. “I haven’t drawn in a little bit because I’ve gotten bored of drawing the same things over and over again… but if you’re okay with it, I’d like to draw you.”

 _Draw you._ Louis wants to draw _him._ “Of course,” Harry says quickly, heart pounding. “Do you want me to do anything?”

Louis shakes his head. “I’m just going to get my stuff and you can keep sitting here. It’s only going to be a face sketch.” 

Harry nods, watching as Louis gets up and disappears behind the waterfall. He’s still so curious what’s back there but he’d never ever consider disregarding Louis’ boundaries. 

He emerges again with a notebook and pencil clutched in his hands, his clothes soaking wet and sticking to his skin. Harry’s throat goes dry, unable to help but let his eyes linger where the fabric clings to his curves irresistibly. If he were artistically gifted, the only thing he’d want to paint is Louis.

The extent of the omega’s beauty amazes him every time he sees him. Even details like the small freckles dotting his skin on his left cheek, the scar on his shoulder which Louis explained was from when Rothbart cursed him and he was thrown backwards, the way his thighs rub together when he walks sometimes, and the small curve of his stomach. 

All of it is beautiful. 

He takes his seat again, angling himself to face Harry. “You don’t have to be completely still. And we can keep talking if you want. I can multitask.”

Harry nods, honored that Louis wants to draw this. That he’ll have this drawing of Harry to look at when Harry isn’t able to be there with him. 

“When you were…” He clears his throat awkwardly. 

“A human still?” Louis gueeses, sounding amused rather than upset much to Harry’s relief. 

“Yeah… did you want to be an artist?” he asks. 

Louis nods. “I used to sell some of my stuff at the market to help make some money for my mum and the girls,” he shrugs, “But a lot of people don't take omegas seriously.” 

Harry grimaces. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s messed up.” 

Louis looks up at him, “Which is why it’s important that when you become king, you let omegas have a voice. Obviously, adding some omegas to the government isn’t going to stop decades of discrimination or traditional ideals, but it’s a start.”

“Of course,” Harry says softly. “I promise I’ll do my best to help change things when I’m king, Lou.”

“I’m not just talking about equal rights- though I hope you’ll fix that too,” Louis continues, brows furrowing. “Omegas deserve the same opportunities as alphas and betas and to achieve that we’ll have to change the way people think, not just the law. And the only way to do that is to give omegas a voice so they can prove it themselves.” Louis’ tone dips quieter as he keeps going, “My younger sister is an omega and she really wants to study law. I want her to be able to do that one day.”

“You’re right,” Harry says thickly. He’s always thought himself to be progressive with his thoughts and ideas- thinking that him changing laws is going to change everything. That he’s some sort of saint. But Louis’ completely right. Nothing will change if people’s _minds_ don’t change. “You’re really smart,” Harry says honestly. “I didn’t think of it that way. There’s probably a lot of stuff I haven’t thought about. I like to think I’m progressive but the truth is, I grew up in the same sexist world as everyone else and while I recognize its faults, I haven’t done enough to forsake it.” 

Louis shrugs. “It’s a problem that many people have. We all grew up in the same sexist world.”

“Yeah but that’s not a good excuse,” says Harry. “I never had to worry about whether I’d be allowed to pursue my career, prince or not. Because alphas are allowed to do what they want, even if it’s at the expense of others. And I’ll never know what it’s like to have your rights depend on who you’re mated to or your ability to have children, but I can’t just say I realize there’s a difference and think I’m doing enough.”

The omega nods, smiling a little bit. “To be fair, there’s a lot of stereotypes for alphas too. Alphas who want to teach or work as nurses face a ton of discrimination.”

Harry shakes his head. “You’re right but they’re still _allowed_ to pursue those careers. Omegas are forced to choose the same jobs and life paths and are labelled terrible if they don’t follow it.”

“My friends and I were outcasts because we were above the age of eighteen and unmarried,” admits Louis. 

Harry scowls at the information. “See, exactly! You shouldn’t have to face such bullshit because of your gender. No omega should. Gods, you didn’t want to marry an alpha and he fucking _cursed_ you. It’s entitlement- entitlement that too many alphas grow up with.” Rothbart, his father, Richard, and countless others. It makes Harry sick. 

Louis shakes his head. “It is fucked up. But I don’t think it’s irreversible.” 

“It’s definitely not irreversible,” swears Harry. He’s feeling fired up and overwhelmed and frustrated, but he automatically softens when he sees the calm in the omega’s eyes as they stare back at him. “Please don’t stop talking to me about this stuff,” he whispers. “I know now that I haven’t been doing enough- haven’t _known_ enough. Please tell me everything you think or feel.”

Louis smiles at him. “Okay.”

Harry just stares at him. How is this omega- and all other omegas- so kind and unbitter despite the world and everyone stepping on them and telling them they’re worth less. “How are you still so…”

“Hopeful?”

“I was going to say not-hateful, but that works too.”

Louis shrugs. “Hate may feel satisfying in the moment but the better thing to do is always to channel it into doing something to enact change. Protesting, educating, discussing. Those are all things I learned to do when I was silenced by the world. I know one day things will be better- I know it. That’s why I have hope.” 

_You’re incredible,_ thinks Harry. But he knows that Louis is just like a ton of other omegas in this regard. All intelligent and hard-workers who deserve so much more. Harry once again promises to himself that he’ll do everything he can to change things- or at least, help _them_ change things. 

“As much as I appreciate this discussion and your willingness to educate yourself, could you please smooth out those angry wrinkles, I’m trying to draw here,” says Louis impatiently. 

Harry bites back a smile, relaxing his face and settling in to watch the omega work. 

-

“You’ve been a little bit distant,” states his father. He’s sitting across from Harry in his office, seated in a large armchair and looking unamused. 

Harry grunts, shrugging. “Been busy,” he says vaguely. 

King Des peers at him skeptically. “Busy with what?”

“Busy trying to pick a fiance,” he replies, pasting on a dutiful smile. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

His father looks appeased at that. “You’re narrowing down the list?”

“Yeah,” Harry lies. “Been making some decisions based off of the letters I’ve been exchanging.”

King Des nods. “Good. This is an important decision, son. I’m glad you’re taking it seriously.”

“Of course, Father,” he says monotonously. He had called Harry in for a “chat” which, as always, just means an excuse to interrogate him about his progress with choosing a bride and then lecture him on the importance of his reputation. 

“The newspapers are going to be watching very carefully,” the king continues. Here it is, thinks Harry. “So I hope whomever you pick is someone intelligent and well-behaved.” 

The word intelligent immediately makes him think of Louis, but he brushes it out of mind. Thinking about his father and Louis at the same time gives him an uncomfortable feeling. “I’m keeping that in mind,” is what he settles on. “I won’t disappoint you,” he adds, knowing it’ll please his father. 

He’s right. King Des smiles proudly. “That’s my boy.”

Harry forces a tight smile in reply. 

“Also, I noticed that you’ve been hanging out with that boy again,” says his father, with a clear hint of disgust. 

Harry frowns. “What boy?” An uneasy feeling falls over him, mind darting back to the forest. There’s no way his father would know about Louis, surely. 

“The kitchen boy,” the king says dismissively. 

Harry’s face hardens for different reasons this time. “Niall’s my friend,” he says firmly. This isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation and he knows it isn’t the last. “Just because he works in the kitchen doesn’t mean he’s any less of a friend to me.” 

King Des sighs. “Harry, I _know_ . I know he’s your friend and you guys have fun together, but people are noticing- more importantly, the _news_ is noticing. And pretty soon, they’ll launch an attack on you. About how you’re regularly consorting with people of lesser status-” Harry clenches his fists, biting down hard on his lip. “-and especially people who are less… educated.”

Harry bristles. “You do realize the only reason Niall hasn’t gone to school is because you refuse to prioritize accessible education for anyone that isn’t a male alpha. That’s on you and the fucking council, not him.” 

His father blinks, taken aback. His face hardens, lips pursed into a thin line. “Don’t use that language with me, son. You’re still one of my subjects and you cannot talk to the king like that.”

“My apologies, your majesty,” says Harry mockingly. He doesn’t know where this is coming from. Actually he does- he’s _mad_. Mad at his father for being a bigoted knothead and for caring more about what the newspapers think than his own morals and ideas. Mad at himself for letting his father get away with it for too long. 

“Harry Edward Styles,” snaps his father sharply. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“I’m just tired of you never listening to what I have to say and letting everyone but me dictate how my life is run,” says Harry, sounding more exhausted than frustrated. He feels like a child having a tantrum and he hates that he’s been raised not to complain to his own _father_ about not being heard. But then again, he supposes this is how everyone else feels. Everyone that tries to stand up to his father and gets nothing but amused, blank silence in return for their emotion. 

His father shakes his head. “You’re not acting like a prince should.” He narrows his eyes, “I have been so easy on you in the past- letting you have your freedom and risk your reputation too much. But not anymore, son. I _am_ still king. And you still have to obey me.” 

How ironic that his father used almost the same words Harry used against Richard, against him. 

How terrible that Harry immediately gives in, resigning himself to silence once more. “I’m sorry, father,” he says quietly. “You’re right.” The words taste bitter in his mouth but he has no choice. Until he turns twenty-five and is old enough to ascend to the throne, he is still a pawn in a game he doesn’t control. All his anger and passion drains out in seconds. 

“I don’t want to hear anything about you seeing Niall anymore,” says his father, voice scarily calm. 

Harry’s jaw locks, but he forces himself to nod. 

“Do you understand me?” he presses. 

“Yes,” bites out Harry, teeth grit almost painfully. 

His father nods. “Good. You’re dismissed.” 

Harry turns and walks away. He doesn’t look back. 

-

It’s been more than a month now since Louis found out Harry’s true identity, and things between them have gotten a lot easier. As in, Louis is beginning to _trust_ him. They’ve been maintaining a steady pattern of seeing each other twice or sometimes even three times a week when he can manage it. 

He can’t deny how invested he is- he wishes he could see him every night, but that would be pushing it. Some people have already been pointing out how Harry looks more exhausted than usual and he’s been feigning sleep issues but it’s only so long until they begin to pay more- _too much_ \- attention. 

But he never ever thinks about reconsidering. Talking to Louis always seems to relieve the weight on his shoulders for a few hours and that alone makes everything else worth the effort. It’s like his time in the army: while he’s in the forest, he’s just Harry. Not Prince Harry Styles, heir to the throne. Just Harry. 

He’s surprised to see Louis standing at the line of trees when he arrives at the forest that night. Harry approaches slowly, bewilderment growing as he takes in Louis’ huddled position. The omega has never ventured so far from his little lake so he’s feeling a bit concerned. 

Seeing the panic and distress on the omega’s face stops him short. “Lou, what’s wrong?” he asks worriedly, crossing the distance between them with long strides. He grips Louis’ trembling shoulders and meets his eyes urgently. 

“You have to go,” Louis says hurriedly. 

Harry furrows his eyes. “But, I thought-”

“No! Not forever, just now,” says Louis panickedly. He ducks his head. “It’s that time of month.”

Harry blinks, confused about the wording until it dawns on him. He goes rigid, anger rising in him. “ _He’s_ coming?” 

Louis nods. “Please, you have to go. If he sees you, he’ll hurt you.” 

Harry shakes his head. “No fucking way.” He had missed the first time Rothbart visited because Louis hadn’t trusted him yet and he missed the last time because he had an impromptu council meeting to attend that went obnoxiously late into the night. But he’s not going to miss another one. 

“Harry,” pleads Louis, hands coming up to push gently on his chest. Harry doesn’t budge. “I’m serious- he might try and kill you, or he’ll curse you and then where would we be?” 

“I’m not leaving you with him,” says Harry firmly. When he and Louis are just laying in the grass, it’s easy to forget the situation. It’s easy to forget that a few hours after he leaves Louis every time, the omega is transformed into a swan in the daylight. It’s easy to forget he’s under a spell from a vile sorcerer who’s trapped him here. 

A sorcerer who’s on his way here. 

“Harry, he’s not going to hurt me,” Louis insists, desperation coating his words. “He’s just going to ask me to marry him and then I’ll say no because even though he’s taken everything from me, I won’t let him take my independence. Then he’ll leave.”

Indignation sours Harry’s insides. He can’t believe that monster has been getting away with this for so long. “I don’t care. I refuse to let you face him with no other protection. I’m going with you.”

“He’ll kill you, idiot,” Louis hisses, smacking him on the chest. Harry catches his hand and squeezes gently. 

“I’ll hide,” Harry says easily. 

Louis raises an eyebrow, “Where?” 

“Anywhere. I’m going with you either way so you might as well help me,” says Harry. “You’re not alone anymore Louis, and I’m not going to let you be alone tonight.”

The omega stares up at him with shining eyes. “Okay,” he says softly. He shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing as he thinks. “You can hide behind the waterfall.” 

Harry blinks. Louis is letting him into his special space- he’s letting Harry _in_. 

“Okay,” he says belatedly, feeling a thousand emotions rush through him at once. 

“Okay,” Louis echoes. “C’mon then, we have to move quickly.”

They do. Side by side until they make it back to the lake. Harry ducks under the spray of the water with Louis, averting his eyes at the way the omega’s slip sticks to his skin and leaves nothing to the imagination as always.

They enter a little nook. Harry surveys the space, noting the small stack of books and the various canvases and stray pieces of paper leaning up against the rock walls. Some of them are simple drawings- others are vastly complex paintings depicting either landscapes or swans. Harry can recognize all four of them: Perrie, Leigh-Anne, Jesy, and Jade. There’s other unfamiliar faces too. A kind middle-aged woman whom Harry assumes is Louis’ mother. Four pretty, young girls with familiar smiles that he recognizes as Louis’ sisters. A male omega with dark hair and eyes who he guesses is Louis’ neighbor, Zayn, also known as Louis’ old best friend. 

And then there's the drawing Louis did of him. He recognizes the sketch of his profile that Louis had shown to him once he had finished and Harry had marveled at it for ages because _fuck_ , Louis was so talented. Except… it’s no longer alone. There’s _more_ \- pages and pages of light pencilled sketches depicting his face and eyes and hair, his smile or thoughtful frown, and most embarrassingly, the fond look of awe that has somehow become an expression dedicated completely to the omega.

It makes his heart clench. Louis blushes when he notices Harry staring at them. “You’re the only person I see frequently,” he defends. Harry hides his smile. “Now, promise me you’ll stay here,” Louis demands sternly, arms crossed and pouting cutely.

“If he hurts you, I’m going out,” says Harry just as sternly. 

“He’s not going to,” says Louis dismissively. “And you have no weapons.”

Harry scoffs. “I don’t need any.” 

Louis rolls his eyes and then gasps. He scrambles to take off Harry’s jacket and Harry ignores the way it automatically makes his alpha protest. Louis hands it to him and Harry takes it reluctantly. 

Then Louis is leaving and Harry is pushing down the urge to grab him and yank him back. He moves closer to the rock, and peers through the water with strained eyes. He can barely see Louis’ outline as he stands somewhere near the center of the clearing. He recognizes the shapes of the four swans as they circle around Louis. 

Then he waits. 

It doesn’t take long. 

Harry didn’t know what he had been expecting- a flash of light, a crack of thunder, something _dramatic_ he supposes. But Rothbart just walks right in. 

More like _stalks_ right in. 

He sucks in a breath. At first glance, he appears harmless: tall but stick thin, gaunt skin and silver hair, but there’s a layer to him. A layer of something threatening, of something _eerie_. Harry inches closer to the water, unbothered by the light spray of water dampening his clothes. 

Rothbart doesn’t seem to even consider that Louis isn’t alone. He keeps his dark eyes latched onto the omega with an unabashed predatory stare. Harry bites down a growl at the display. 

“Petit cygne,” the man says, voice low and gritty. _Little swan?_ Harry does growl at that, low and rumbling. Luckily, in his rage he still has the sense to muffle it with the back of his hand.

Louis doesn’t answer. 

“I won’t be long,” says Rothbart. “Considering you never want to be good.”

Harry grips the side of the rock with white fingers, biting harshly at his lip. 

Louis still doesn’t answer.

“Will you marry me?” Rothbart asks, tone hard and vile. 

“No,” says Louis immediately. His words are clipped but succinct. 

Rothbart growls. “So be it, petit cygne,” he says. “I’m beginning to think you like it here.”

The omega doesn’t answer. Harry takes deep breaths in and out. It’s almost over, he thinks. 

But it’s not, because Rothbart is moving closer. Harry’s senses heighten as his alpha instincts fight for control. 

“Get up,” Rothbart snaps. 

Louis stands up, body rigid.

“What the fuck,” Harry whispers, unease coursing through him. He makes a mental promise that he’s intervening if Rothbart lays one hand on Louis. 

“Say it,” Rothbart orders next, looming over Louis like a beast. 

“Je suis une petite putain,” Louis says emotionlessly.

Harry’s mouth drops open. 

“Bien,” Rothbart says, nodding in approval. And then in a blink of an eye, he’s in front of Louis, gripping him by the neck. Harry shakes with anger. “Bonne nuit, petit cygne. Hopefully you’ll be good next time.” 

Then he’s walking away and Harry’s seeing red. 

The omega waits an entire five minutes before he runs back to see Harry, who stands frozen in place, blood boiling. 

“I’m going to kill him,” he says. 

Louis gasps, and then smacks him on the chest. “Don’t be stupid,” he hisses. “And don’t be _violent_. You said you’d never kill anyone again!” 

“He touched you!” Harry exclaims angrily. “He has no right -"

“He didn’t hurt me,” Louis says hastily. “It was two seconds.”

“He still touched you,” Harry says angrily. “I’m going to-”

“Harry, stop,” says Louis. The fear in his voice is what ultimately gets Harry to calm down. “The only way to save me from him is if I get someone to fall in love with me. You know what that means right?”

Harry stares at him, taken aback. Louis’ looking at him with wide, innocent eyes and for a second, Harry feels a rush of adoration rush through him. Is Louis suggesting… 

“We have to do your plan now,” continues Louis. Harry’s heart stutters as the statement registers. “The tavern. I don’t know how well it’s going to work but I’m getting sick of this.” He shakes his head. “I’m tired of being afraid and just settling for my fate. I want to break this curse and I want to do it soon.”

Nearly a minute goes by as Harry processes the words, ignoring the disappointment curling in his stomach. “Right,” he says, snapping himself out of it and clearing his throat. “Okay, should we go next time I’m here?” 

Louis shakes his head. “Maybe in a week?” 

Harry nods, forcing himself to smile encouragingly. He’s supposed to be helping Louis. - he should be _happy_ that the omega is finally letting him. “Alright, I’ll be here.”

Louis smiles at him with pure hope in his eyes. “There’s a chance for me, I know it.”

Softening, Harry tamps down any countering feelings and smiles. “Of course there is, Lou. You’re incredible. Anyone would be stupid not to fall for you.” He’s speaking more honestly than he’d like. “And we’re going to break the curse, I believe it.” 

Louis nods, eyes shy. “I believe it too.” 

-

 _Tara’s_ is a renowned clothing shop for omegas, betas, and alphas alike. More importantly, Tara herself is a good friend of Gemma’s, which means she’s a good friend of Harry’s by association. 

When he requested she open for him in the middle of the night as a favor, she happily said yes, informing Harry that she knows he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t desperate. 

He sneaks out from his room right before midnight, feeling vaguely guilty as he leaves behind his unopened letters from various omegas laying pitfully on his desk. 

But not quite guilty enough. 

The moon is bright and unwavering as he treks through the now familiar path along the trees and through the narrow entrance into the glade where Louis is sitting huddled with the other swans, murmuring tiredly. 

Harry can’t help his grin when he sees the now familiar way the moon caresses Louis’ features like he’s some sort of midnight angel.

They greet each other the same way as always, with a hug to soothe Louis’ deprivation. Then they sit by the water and dip their toes in while Harry recounts his day and Louis talks about whatever he wants, all of which Harry remembers and keeps in the part of his brain which has become his storage of all information regarding the omega. 

Then Harry carefully brings up his plan and Louis immediately frowns just like Harry knew he would.

“If you’re going to a tavern and trying to catch someone’s eye, you need better clothes. Not to mention, my jacket isn’t enough to protect you from getting sick if the wind gets too harsh,” he tells him firmly, hoping Louis doesn’t catch on to the jealous edge tainting his tone. “I have money, you know I do. And using it to buy clothes for someone who needs it is a much better use of my privilege then just letting it sit in the royal treasury, don’t you think?”

The omega is still frowning. “I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“You’re not a bother,” Harry says fiercely. He gestures to the swans. “I’ll even get them stuff if they need it. I’m sure Tara can figure something out for practical bird fashion.” He cracks a grin. 

Louis huffs, but Harry can see the edges of a smile curling at his lips so he counts it as a victory. 

And then they’re off. Harry, Louis, and all four swans since they don’t want to leave Louis’ side. Harry leads the way out of the forest, internally grimacing because it’ll be about a mile’s walk until they reach the town and then another mile to the heart of the settlement where Tara is waiting for them. Louis doesn’t seem to mind, humming under his breath and seemingly happy at the change of scenery. 

It’s weird seeing him outside of the forest setting, but it’s definitely a _good_ weird. 

Harry can almost pretend that they’re just normal people instead of a pair of condemned souls, one cursed and the other trapped, both of them stuck in a life they didn’t want. 

He walks ahead but glances back every once in a while to make sure everyone’s okay, eyes scanning over everyone and counting mentally. _One, two, three, four_ … Louis. 

Harry can’t help the way he seems to automatically relax whenever his eyes latch onto the smaller omega and the way his insides instantly loosen when he sees that familiar smile. It’s a peculiar feeling- soft and raw and warm, yet Harry has the urge to escape it sometimes. 

Like now when Perrie catches him staring and shoots him an amused look. The fact that swans can shoot him amused looks is honestly ridiculous but here he is anyway, the tips of his ears burning hot red. 

He clears his throat and then very pointedly keeps his gaze fixed ahead for the remainder of the journey. Thankfully, it’s not too cold out and it’s even sort of pleasant. A cool breeze ruffles though the trees and everyone’s hair and the low rays of the moon cast a hauntingly beautiful glow over their surroundings. Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it. 

Tara is waiting near the entrance when they arrive, dressed in a coat over her working clothes. Her dark, curly hair is concealed under a hood, only the small oval of her face peeking out from the fabric. He watches the way her eyes widen and her mouth drops open a little bit in confusion before she catches herself and her expression smooths out. Harry tenses when her eyes slide over to him, question evident.

Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything. Instead she greets them warmly with a neutral expression. Harry opens the door for Louis to enter, savoring the little smile he’s sent in thanks. 

She also doesn’t say anything about the line of swans that follow them in, flapping their wings and squawking in excitement. She’s a gem, really.

They light the lanterns and lamps, revealing a room filled with racks of silk, lace, velvet, rich scarlet wool, damask, satin, along with many more that Harry couldn’t put a name to. 

Louis gasps and Harry watches fondly as he reaches out for the closest rack filled with jackets and shawls. “Pick anything you like,” he says and Louis shoots him an awed and utterly sweet look that has Harry’s heart racing. 

If Louis keeps looking at him like that, he may just buy out the entire clothing industry. 

Tara takes Louis aside and points out where everything is located. Louis looks so eager and excited that Harry’s heart _aches_ with his endearment. He takes it upon himself to supervise the swans who are already nosing around at the rack of trousers and squawking curiously. 

“Hey, hey, no don’t- _ow!"_ Harry yelps, staring down at the rapidly reddening of his right hand. He scowls at a very smug Jesy. “For fuck’s sake, what did I ever do to you?” he asks annoyedly. Jesy just smirks at him. 

Fucking human swans. 

Even though he tries to be nonchalant, he can’t help but stare as Louis glides through the rows, a wide smile on his face. He pauses before a thick wool coat and pets the material softly. His eyes widen in obvious delight and Harry’s lips twitch in affection. 

Someone clears their throat and he jumps. 

Tara’s smirking at him. “So you’re not even going to tell me anything about your boy?” 

Harry bites his lip, blushing. “He’s not my boy.” 

“Isn’t he?” she asks, still smirking. Harry just shakes his head helplessly. She raises an eyebrow, “So you just wish _he_ was.” 

“No, we’re friends,” Harry protests lamely. 

She just gives him a look. Fair enough. 

“He’s cursed,” he explains, keeping his voice low. Tara looks confused so he continues, “I know you don’t believe in magic, but trust me, this is real.”

“Elaborate," she demands, brow raising skeptically.

Harry hesitates, “He turns into a swan every morning and only turns back into a human at night,” he explains. “This sorcerer cursed him because he didn’t want to marry him and- the rest is history.”

Tara winces. “What about…” She gestures to the bevy of swans around him and Harry sighs. “Louis’ friends. They’ve been completely turned into swans. Louis can somewhat understand them but they can’t really understand him, at least… not his words. They still do their best to protect him even if that means attacking me,” he grumbles, shooting Jesy a bitter glare. 

She chuckles, a bit wide-eyed. “I can’t believe this.”

“Well, it’s all true,” says Harry. He ducks his head. “And the only way to break the curse is if someone falls in love with him who’s never fallen in love with anyone before.”

Eyebrow raised, Tara smirks. “I see…”

Harry frowns. “It’s not me,” he clarifies quickly. _No matter how much he wishes it were._ At the beta’s bemused expression, he continues, “We’re going to try and find someone for him at a tavern. That’s why we’re here actually- to get him clothes for him for going.” He ignores the way his alpha growls at the thought of Louis all dolled up and pretty for someone that’s not _him_. 

“Let me guess, you’re going to chaperone?” Tara grins. 

“Well, yeah…” Harry says, defensive. “He’s an unmated omega, I’m not leaving him out of my sight.”

Her smirk grows. “I wonder how many alphas will actually be able to pursue something with him if you’re going to glue yourself to his back and act like a protective boyfriend.” 

Harry sputters, mouth dropping open. “I’m not going to-”

“Aren’t you?” Tara asks amusedly. “You don’t look too happy about doing this.”

“That’s because I’m concerned,” Harry insists, glancing around to make sure Louis is still preoccupied and isn’t listening in. 

Tara just stares at him. 

“I’m not jealous,” he denies petulantly. 

“Sure, Styles,” she scoffs. “Don’t forget that I _know_ you. All alphas are jealous and possessive but you take it to another level.” 

He frowns, offended. “So what if I’m protective over the things I love.” 

“Love?” asks Tara, eyes gleaming. 

Harry stills. “No… not- not Louis. I don’t…” Not _yet,_ he muses bitterly _._

Tara just nods. “I’ll cut you some slack but you do realize you’re his best shot right? You’re acting like you’re halfway in love with him already, I think it’d be good to focus on that.”

He gapes. “I’m not- That’s not true.”

Another pointed look. 

“I’m getting engaged in three weeks,” he says glumly. “I can’t fall in love with anyone now- that’d be a mess.”

“Tell that to your heart,” Tara retorts. “You can’t force yourself to love or not love someone. And if you fall in love with Louis and end up saving him, isn’t that more important? Even if it never leads to anything?” 

Harry bites his lip, but doesn’t say anything. Tara takes pity on him and shakes her head. 

“Well, I’m going to go show Louis the changing rooms because it looks like he’s ready to try some stuff on,” she says. She shoots him a sly look. “I’m sure he’ll want some opinions.” 

He shakes his head, but he follows after the beta immediately. 

She ushers Louis into the biggest changing room, telling him that she and Harry will wait outside and they’ll tell him what they think. 

Harry chimes in that it’s entirely Louis’ decision but is floored when Louis says shyly, “I want your opinion.”

He swallows roughly. _You’d look amazing in anything._ “Okay,” he says neutrally. He plasters on an encouraging smile as Louis steps inside and the door closes between them. With a deep breath, he sits down on one of the waiting area chairs and pointedly ignores Tara’s knowing grin. 

Hands braced on his knees, he mentally prepares himself for whatever Louis will walk out in. He had seen a small glimpse of the clothes bundled up in Louis’ arms and just thinking about it makes his insides twist in arousal. 

Gods, why is he so _horny_? 

Maybe it’s just Louis’ impact. The effect he apparently has on all alphas. He thinks back to what Tara accused him of- being half in love with the omega already. That’s not true… is it? 

Harry can’t deny that his blood boils at the thought of some random, hungry alpha stepping too close to Louis or worse, trying to touch him. The thought of anyone running their greedy gazes on Louis for too long makes him want to punch something. But that’s just his alpha being protective… because Louis and him are _friends._

Right? 

The squeaky sound of the changing room curtain being drawn open rips him away from his thoughts and he looks up, breath catching in his throat as Louis slowly steps out, a blush painted on his cheeks. 

He’s wearing… 

Fuck. 

He’s wearing a _dress_. 

But it’s not just a dress on him. On him, it’s a _dream._

It’s light blue- made of silk and looking incredibly soft. It drapes over his body like water, flowing and accentuating his soft omega features beautifully. The sleeves are long and flared and the neckline is low, allowing Louis’ delicate collarbone to stand out distinctly. 

Harry sits rigid, hands white and strained against his knees as Louis takes a small twirl, material rippling around him like magic. It’s longer than his slip but still short, falling halfway down his thighs and leaving the soft curve of his calves exposed. And the waist is cinched in, emphasizing the arch of his sides prominently. 

He almost makes a sound when he gets an eyeful of Louis’ perfect arse and the small flash of lace he can see through the fabric. Everything is so… 

_Fuck_. 

But the most important thing about it is that Louis looks happy. He’s got a small, bashful grin on his face and his eyes are lit up, tracing the way the fabric flows around him when he moves. 

He’s blushing when he finally looks towards them. “Is it okay?” he asks Harry anxiously. 

“You look gorgeous,” Tara says excitedly. “Seriously, that dress is made for you!”

Even the swans squawk their agreement, ruffling and puffing their feathers eagerly. Louis smiles sweetly at them and Harry internally combusts. 

Then Louis’ eyes are sliding over to Harry, widening a bit with every second. Harry swallows again, physically in pain when Louis bites his lip with obvious expectation and desire to please. He’s looking at him like he wants assurance. 

As if Harry could _not_ be completely entranced and intoxicated by him looking so ethereal. 

“Beautiful,” he says finally, voice thick with an indescribable feeling. He can’t articulate anything further- or anything beyond: _hips arse neck waist legs_. “You look beautiful.”

It’s an understatement. But Harry can’t very well say, _The omega goddess has nothing on you. You’re transcendent_ without crossing some sort of unspoken line. 

The omega’s blush grows anyway- the pink dusting his cheeks just adding to the overall picture. Harry suddenly feels very constricted and restless in his trousers. “Thank you,” he murmurs, ducking his head. Harry nearly groans at the sight it makes: his shy omega showing respect to him. 

_No_. 

That’s -

No. Not his omega. Not his _anything_. 

Merely friends. Only ever friends. 

Tara is smirking when Harry glances at her, throat dry. “Okay Louis, next outfit!” she exclaims gleefully. Harry clenches his fists. 

_Fuck_. 

-

Harry crawls in through the tunnels and pulls himself up and into his room, feeling high strung and breathless. Despite his best efforts, his mind conjures up another image of Louis in that dress and he groans, cock twitching. 

He’s never had such a distinct reaction to someone wearing a dress before, but for Louis it’s like he can’t focus on anything except how his skin looked against the soft silk and how the thin material did nothing to hide his intoxicating curves. 

Fuck. 

And- he’s hard. 

He’s been aroused ever since Louis stepped out of the dressing room, barefoot and drop dead gorgeous, but now that he’s alone it’s inescapable. 

With a grimace, he stumbles to his bed and begins stripping off his clothes. Normally, he wouldn’t bother stripping entirely when he’s so desperate but he’s sweating up a storm and everything feels raw and sensitive, especially the feeling of fabric sticking to his skin. He lets out a guttural noise when his trousers brush over his cock, flinging them off and immediately cupping his bulge over his boxers. 

He hisses at the feeling, throwing his head back in pleasure. 

It’s completely dark and silent save for the sounds of his satisfaction. Harry feels dirty but in the best way possible. 

_Damn Louis and his ethereal beauty_ , he thinks. 

His mind helpfully retrieves the memory of how Louis’ collarbone stood out so beautifully against the gauzy material of the second dress he wore- pink and sheer and so fucking beautiful. If he were here, nothing could stop Harry from biting all over them. Giving him a necklace of dark red bruises to match the blush of his flushed cheeks when he caught Harry gawking at him earlier. 

Shoving his boxers down, he finally grips his length, angry and red and thick, filling up his hand easily. He thinks of Louis’ delicate fingers and how they’d look wrapped around his cock before groaning again. Harry’s always been methodological and deliberate when he wanks off but today that simply won’t do. 

Not when the image of Louis’ sinful arse covered in lace with nothing but the sheer pink fabric of his dress to conceal it is branded in his brain. Harry is not ashamed to admit he’s an arse man, and Louis’ arse- fucking _hell_. It’s magical. 

He desperately wants to touch it- cup each cheek with his palms and fingers spread wide and just _squeeze._ Maybe spank him until his arse is as pink as his soft lips. He groans again, using his thumb to spread some precum over his cock for a smoother glide. It’s still pretty dry, but the roughness only adds to his arousal. 

He strokes hard and fast, abs clenching and skin glistening from exertion. It’s been ages since he’s gotten this worked up, ages since he’s taken the time to please himself like this in general between all of his other responsibilities. His eyes flutter shut and he swallows roughly, thinking of Louis’ high lilting voice and how he’d sound if Harry grabbed him around the middle and pushed him up against a wall. 

Harry bites down hard on his lip, squeezing a bit on the upstroke and bucking his hips into the circle of his fingers. He’s already close though he’s sure it’s only been a few minutes. He feels frazzled- limbs locked, breathing stilted, and eyes dilated. His mind is a rush of _louis baby omega angel swan pretty lou arse waist mouth hands_ and finally, _mine._

Everything about the omega is so delicate and beautiful. Harry wants to keep him in his bed, wants to take care of him for the rest of their lives. He wants to run his hands over every inch of his smooth, golden skin. Wants to press kisses down his spine and suck marks over his stomach. 

God, he wants to _shove his fingers down his elegant throat._

He pictures how Louis would react- how he’d blink at Harry with wide, eager blue eyes and easily take everything Harry threw at him. How his lips would turn red and swollen from how much Harry would bite at them (and he’d bite at them a _lot_ ). How his skin would look marred by Harry’s teeth and tongue. 

Harry spares a thought for how his slick would taste, just as sweet and addicting as everything else about him, Harry’s sure. 

_Fuck._

Keeping two fingers loosely circled around his rapidly forming knot, he thrusts into open air and comes with another guttural groan, a violent shudder coursing through his body. His jaw slackening in rapture, caught in a silent yell. It almost _hurts_ with how good it is. 

For a second, he just stands there, panting harshly with eyes squeezed shut. He never even made it to the bed, a true testament of how severe his desperation had been. A slight regret settles over him as he mourns the idea of rutting against the mattress- helplessly imagining it’s Louis’ skin he’s biting at and not the thin fabric of his sheets. 

_Next time_ , he thinks. Because considering how vivid the memories of Louis in those damned dresses are, he’s going to be very sexually satisfied (or unsatisfied depending on how you look at it) in the approaching days. 

With a sigh, he stalks to the bathroom and wipes himself down, shooting his reflection a quick once over and wincing at how utterly carnal he looks. After brushing his teeth and patting his hair down, he returns to his bed and doesn’t bother putting on any clothes when he slides in. He pulls up the sheets and closes his eyes. 

The burning image of Louis’ shy face as he posed in front of him and Tara might as well be painted on the back of his eyelids. He wonders how shy Louis would be if Harry fucked him. His cock throbs again and he bites his lip, disgruntled and unbearably turned on again. Since when did he get so horny all the time? 

Since Louis… 

Right. 

_Thank the gods for soundproof walls_ , he thinks, before sitting up and reaching down all over again. 

-

It’s difficult at first to ignore how much everything has changed since Harry saw Louis last. . It doesn’t help that Louis is wearing the same blue dress from two nights before, all blushing cheeks and giddy smiles in his new clothes and blue slippers as they take off in the direction of the nearest village: Envieh. 

Harry’s brain is a contradictory mix of _don’t ruin this for Louis_ and _he doesn’t need those other alphas when he has me_ but he forces himself to stay quiet. He’s going to try for Louis.

Louis, who’s never shown any explicit interest in him nor even considered the possibility of _Harry_ being the one who saves him. Louis, who is completely oblivious to the inner turmoil Harry is experiencing. Louis, who’s so excited and hopeful that he doesn’t see the longing in Harry’s face. 

“Is everything okay?” Louis asks him as they approach the main road, concern painted across his face. 

Harry plasters on a smile. “I’m just nervous that someone will recognize me.” He’s wearing his usual hunting clothes but he’s added on a brown page cap and refrained from shaving this morning. It’s a pitiful disguise but Harry honestly isn’t too worried- he learned young that everyone at these taverns were too preoccupied with other things to consider the presence of a royal in their midst. 

“It _is_ kind of a shitty disguise,” agrees Louis. 

Harry smirks. “You didn’t recognize me when I wasn’t wearing _any_ disguise so I think I’ll be fine.”

Louis scowls. “It had been two years since I’d heard your name, knothead.” 

Harry just chuckles. 

The tavern they’re heading to is one Harry’s been to once or twice as a teenager. He knows the owner, a middle-aged beta named Julian. If Julian saw him, he wouldn’t say anything even if selling information to the papers could get him a _lot_ of money. He’s a good guy and Harry would rather go to his tavern with Louis than any other’s. 

As per usual, they’re a gaggle of people loitering outside. A pair of betas smoking silently, another group of young and cocky alphas jeering at each other, a bickering couple gesturing wildly at each other, and someone staggering to the end of the sidewalk to puke down the drain. 

Louis looks curious and a little nervous. Harry frowns. “Have you been to a tavern before?”

The omega blushes, “Not exactly?”

Harry’s frown grows, his brows dipping inward. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” dimisses Louis. He shrugs off Harry’s jacket, revealing his bell-capped sleeves and collarbone. Harry swallows. So he has to endure alphas flirting with Louis while _also_ having to hide a boner. Fantastic. 

Harry opens the door for Louis, glaring at the alpha who whistles and leers at him. Louis turns red and Harry places a claiming hand on the small of his back, urging him inside. “As soon as you’re uncomfortable, tell me and we’ll leave,” he breathes. 

Louis nods and Harry likes to think the movement is so quick because maybe _Louis_ doesn’t want to be here just as much as _he_ doesn’t. 

The tavern has more of a rustic feel, worn wood walls that rise high to the ceiling which is crossed with thick wooden beams. An array of lamps hang from the beams and cast a dim glow over the entire room. There’s at least fifty people inside: all mingling or drinking or laughing or yelling. Wooden tables are set up for cards and poker. Bartender omegas dressed in aprons and matching pink skirts walk around with trays of beer, giggling at alpha’s comments either genuinely or for the extra tip. 

Everything smells of stale air and smoke. Questionable stains and spills taint every surface and Harry’s pretty sure he saw someone’s lunch spewed out about ten feet away. 

All in all, it’s one of the better ones. 

As in, after a quick scan of the room and its inhabitants, Harry’s pretty sure no fights will break out. Julian runs a tight ship but whenever there’s a bunch of strong headed alphas and crates of beer, there’s always a worry. 

Louis peers around, lips parted in curiosity. Harry resists the urge to grab him and leave. Already he can see some alphas take notice of Louis’ arrival- leering stares and greedy whispers surround them. Harry snarls, stuffing his hands in his pockets aggressively. 

“Should I drink something?” asks Louis. 

“No,” says Harry immediately. “And don’t take any drinks from any of these bastards. Too many omegas disappear overnight because a trashy alpha got too greedy.” 

Louis huffs. “Will you get me a drink then?” he asks crossly. 

Harry frowns. “Are you trying to get drunk or something?”

“No, it’s just… I don’t really know how to do this,” Louis confesses. 

“Do what?” Harry asks. 

“Flirt,” Louis whispers, face flushing adorably. 

Harry blinks. “Oh.”

“And maybe if I have some liquid courage then I’ll stop overthinking enough to not worry about talking to someone,” says Louis as he fidgets with his dress. 

“You don’t have to…” Harry trails off nervously. “You don’t have to talk, really, just flutter your eyelashes and no one will stand a chance.”

Louis scoffs, “Sure.”

“No, I’m serious,” Harry says, just a tad bit hysterically. How can Louis not realize how he’s literally the prettiest omega Harry has ever seen and _any one_ would be lucky to have his attention. “If you want, you can expose your neck a little bit too. Alphas love that.” It’s self sabotage at it’s finest when the words leave his mouth, but he can’t even bring himself to resist the view. 

Louis bites his lip and Harry tracks the movement against his best efforts. Fuck, fuck _fuck-_

And then Louis stares up at him, eyes wide and so, so blue. He flutters his eyelashes and smiles shyly, tilting his head to the side and revealing the smooth, slightly flushed skin of his neck and throat. 

Harry goes rigid, caught in a trance of vanilla and lavender and beauty. 

“Like this?” Louis whispers, voice soft and coy. 

Harry swallows, nodding jerkily. “Uh-huh.” His alpha bites back a whimper. 

Eventually, they do decide to get drinks. Harry orders while Louis stands next to him, scanning the list interestedly. Harry can’t deny that he glared when one of the alphas started leering openly, blatantly staring at Louis’ arse while the omega stands unaware.

“Whoa, your scent kind of went crazy,” whispers Louis, giggling. 

Harry’s jaw ticks. He’s well aware he’s releasing some rather _territorial_ pheromones, but he can’t help it. 

He hands a drink to Louis and then slides his hand around to the small of his back to gently lead him to an unoccupied table. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” he says when they take their seats. “You pick some alphas out that you’re interested in talking to and I’ll let you know if I think they’re… good enough or not.” 

Louis nods, looking around. 

Part of Harry desperately hopes Louis won’t find anyone worth pursuing and they can leave, but when Louis turns back to him with a light blush, he knows he’s not going to get through this easily. “There’s one,” whispers Louis, angling his shoulder to point to the right. Harry follows his direction, frowning when he sees a table of three alphas and a beta. 

“Which one?” he grunts out measuredly. 

“The one wearing the vest,” Louis says shyly. 

Harry picks him out easily. Tall and broad and dressed in typical farming clothes. His head is tipped back in loud laughter, jaw angled and curly blonde hair hanging freely. “He looks like an asshole,” says Harry abruptly. 

“Does he? I thought he kind of looked like you,” Louis says, brows furrowing.

Harry grimaces. “I mean- I’m sure he’s actually okay, it’s just the, um,” he struggles to come up with something believable quickly, “Hair.” 

Louis narrows his eyes. “His _hair_?”

Harry nods unsurely. “Yeah… Only assholes wear their hair like that,” he says confidently. 

The omega stares at him confusedly. “But… you used to have your hair like that?”

His mouth twists. “Well… who said I wasn’t an asshole in my past?”

The omega smiles. “Really?”

“Total bastard, I was,” Harry swears, internally cursing himself. _What the fuck is he saying?_ “But the army changed me.”

“Right," Louis says disbelievingly. 

Harry nods, thinking fondly back over his time there. Regardless of hairstyle it really had hardened him, made him better suited for his position no matter how much he still detests it. It’d taught him growth and respect and responsibility and - wait, had Louis just suggested he was looking for an alpha that looked like _Harry_? “You think he looks like me?”

For a moment, they just stare at each other, the blush on Louis’ cheeks growing with each and every second. Harry tries not to jump to conclusions, but it’s difficult. 

Louis looks around hurriedly. “That guy.”

Harry whips around to follow Louis’ gaze and frowns. This alpha is leaning up against the bar counter, chugging down a glass of ale. His hair is black and _also_ curly - does Louis have a thing for curls?

This is beginning to get interesting, he thinks. But still, he eyes the contender with distaste. “He looks like he’s got a drinking problem and I don’t like that,” he tells Louis, following up with a sip of his own drink. 

Louis sends him an impressed look. “How about you choose someone for me then?”

“Me?” Harry asks, but he really wants to phrase it without the question at the end. 

“Yeah, who here looks like they’d be into me?” Louis presses impatiently. 

Harry looks around uneasily, meeting the eyes of some (too many) curious alphas. “Um…” _Everyone. But I don’t want you to talk to any of them._

Fucking hell, Tara was right. He _is_ possessive, especially when it comes to Louis. 

He tries to pinpoint someone who Louis would be disappointed by, but he never gets the chance to speak. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” says an unfamiliar voice. Lips pursed, Harry looks up at the grinning alpha who’s approached their table, gaze searing into his face unsubtly. The alpha ignores him in favor of turning to Louis who straightens up. “I’m going to be blunt. I think you’re gorgeous and I’d like to buy you a drink.” 

Louis freezes, eyes sliding over to Harry nervously. Harry forces himself not to open his mouth, smiling encouragingly. His alpha protests but he manages to control himself. 

The omega still looks unsure so Harry forces himself to stand up, pasting on a strained grin. “I’m going to get a drink but _Louis_ here doesn’t need one. Feel free to take my spot.” 

His pheromones contradict his statement but unfortunately, the eager alpha doesn’t catch that. He makes himself step aside, grin feeling awkward and maybe a bit maniacal as he leans in to whisper in Louis’ ear. “I’ll be at the bar - come get me if you’re uncomfortable.”

Louis nods, smiling at him softly. 

He takes one step after the other, praying that Louis will stop him or join him. But he doesn’t and Harry makes it to the bar by himself, collapsing onto the stool. The bartender, a female beta, sends him a curious look. She holds up her jug of beer. “Bad night?”

“Something like that,” he mutters. But he waves away her offer for a free drink. He’s going to stay sober tonight- he has to, for Louis. 

It’s one of the most difficult challenges he’s faced in his life: forcing himself not to turn around and search out Louis and that random alpha to observe what they’re doing- if they’re talking or laughing or… 

He groans. 

Instead of fretting, he tries to think over his list of potential brides. He hasn’t been thinking about as much as he should considering the time is slowly ticking down and he’ll soon have to announce to the entirety of Orciela who he’s engaged to. 

And this person will become his _queen_. They’ll rule beside him for the rest of his life. He cannot consider this lightly, yet every bone in his body wants him to ignore it. Wants him to pursue Louis and not one of these noble omegas who’s sure are mostly good people, but still can’t live up to Louis. 

He needs to pick someone who he’ll get along with at the very least. Based on his limited interactions with all of them, he can say he’s narrowed it down to a top five: Antoine, Geneviève, Emmaline, Allison, and Tarquin. They’re the ones whose letters Harry can interpret some actual _substance_ from. 

And right now they’re his best bet. 

He’s debating whether or not he should just bite the bullet and ask for another drink when someone taps on his shoulder. He’s expecting an omega and he opens his mouth to brush them off, but-

It’s Louis. The only omega he wants to see. 

He exhales harshly, taken aback. Louis looks defeated and Harry frowns. “What did he do?”

The omega gapes. “No, nothing happened!” he exclaims hurriedly. 

“Then why do you look so upset?” Harry asks gently. 

Louis takes a seat on the empty stool next to him. “Edgar only wants a quick lay, not true love,” he says bitterly. Harry’s not surprised it didn’t take him long to figure that out. 

“Edgar is a bastard,” he says instead. 

The omega scoffs. “I can’t really blame him. This is a tavern, Harry. Most people come here for temporary relief, not bumping into your future husband.” 

Harry’s heart sinks at the omega’s resignation. “We can find someone here, I know it.” _I’m right here,_ he thinks dejectedly. 

“Harry-”

“There’s dozens of alphas here, and most of them would shit their pants to get a chance to talk to you,” Harry argues. “You can’t just give up.”

“Harr-”

“And if we can’t find anyone here, then we’ll figure something else out,” Harry promises. “I swear it, Lou.”

“Harry!” Louis exclaims, placing a hand on his shoulder. Harry stills, their point of contact burning through his two layers and bleeding into his skin. “I think we should go. There’s only one alpha here that I’m really interested in but he hasn’t shown any interest back.” He sounds so forlorn, and Harry really wants to hurt Edgar.

“That bastard wasn’t worth it,” Harry says firmly. 

Louis snorts. “I’m not talking about Edgar.”

Harry frowns, a feeling of discomfort growing in him. “Oh,” he says helplessly. “Someone else?”

Louis nods slowly, looking distraught and shy.

“Who?” Harry asks, wincing when it comes out harsher than he intended. 

Louis shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same.”

“How do you know?” Harry trudges on. “He’d be stupid not to.”

He gets another snort in response.

“What?” Harry asks, confusedly. Louis just grimaces, as if he’s genuinely hurt and disappointed. He can’t help but let the jealousy fester inside him. Louis is so hung up on this random alpha who he doesn’t even know and it’s pissing him off. 

The fact that this unknown alpha hasn’t been giving Louis the attention he deserves and is making him sad is also pissing him off. “Who is it?” he asks again. 

Louis just shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Harry insists. Apparently he’s a masochist - he doesn’t really want to hear about whatever alpha’s caught Louis’ eye but he also made a promise to help him so he’s going to stand by it. “You can’t know what he’s thinking until you talk to him for real. He could be pretending to be nonchalant, but really he’s been watching you all night because you look so pretty and-” He breaks off embarrassedly. Louis looks skeptical and a bit annoyed. “Who is it?”

There’s a drawn out pause and then - “You’re such a knothead,” Louis blurts. He sounds _angry._

“Wait, what?” Harry asks, completely lost. Louis crosses his arms, feet apart and mouth twisted into a scowl. “What did I do?”

Louis shakes his head disbelievingly. “You’re so oblivious.”

Harry blinks. “What?”

“I’m talking about _you_ ,” Louis shrieks, gesturing wildly. Harry freezes. “And your stupid, stupid alpha brain doesn’t get it!”

He doesn’t move, completely frozen in place. 

“You’re so eager to set me up with some other alpha, not even realizing that I’d rather _you_ fall in love with me and break the curse, because _I’m_ falling for you,” Louis exclaims angrily. He pokes Harry in the chest. “Do you get it now?!” 

“Louis,” Harry says calmly, grabbing his smaller hand and clutching it in his bigger one. The omega stills, face red and chest heaving. Harry feels emboldened and so, _so_ happy and relieved. “Louis, look at me.”

The omega obliges reluctantly, mouth still pursed into a frown. Their eyes meet and Harry studies Louis’ anew like he doesn’t already have them completely committed to memory. The different hues of light and dark blue along with little specks of green and gold and other unfathomable colors that blend seamlessly together to create a shade so unique and beautiful that it cannot be matched by any other set of eyes.

Gods, Harry loves Louis’ eyes. Loves the way they shimmer when the omega smiles. Or when he’s giggling. Loves the way that emotion shows so easily and strongly in their depths so you always know what he’s feeling. 

Like now, where longing and affection is deeply rooted in the regions of his irises. Emotions so strong and obvious that Harry is stunned by it. 

How could he have ever missed it? 

The same depth is mirrored in his own eyes, after all. 

“We’re both oblivious idiots,” he murmurs quietly. Then he cups Louis’ face and kisses him. 

The omega gasps and Harry swallows the sound, savoring the feel of Louis’ soft, pink lips finally touching his own. His heart races as he tightens his hold on Louis’ face, fingers sliding through his soft hair and tilting his head up to slot their lips more effectively. 

Louis makes another sound, slumping into him as they part their lips and Harry licks into his mouth, tasting him for the first time. 

He slides an arm around the omega’s middle and tugs him into his lap, Louis’ legs coming around to secure themselves around his waist tightly. Louis moans prettily, fingers gripping helplessly at Harry’s shoulders. 

Harry sucks Louis’ bottom lip into his mouth, revelling in the little whimper that slips from his lips in response. He splays his hand out wide on the omega’s back, a glaring sign to any passing alpha that Louis is with him. 

He reluctantly drags his mouth away, trailing kisses down his jaw and throat until he’s sucking a mark right above Louis’ bonding spot. The omega shudders, baring his neck for easier access. 

The right sleeve of his dress is slipping down his arm so Harry tugs it up, not wanting anybody to catch a glimpse of his honeyed, soft skin. He sucks another mark near Louis’ collarbone like he’s been dreaming about doing for weeks. 

A cleared throat breaks them apart. The bartender is back, looking amused. “Congratulations both of you, but could you please do that-” She gestures between them. “-not in front of the counter where you’re blocking potential customers.” 

Louis is bright red and Harry takes it in with a smirk, waving a hand at her. “C’mon, baby,” he whispers. Louis’ head snaps to his face, turning even more red. His lips part in surprise at the nickname. Well, Harry’s got a lot more where that came from. 

He carefully hoists him up and then down onto the ground, sliding his arms around his waist from behind as he guides the omega straight outside. He won’t deny that he made them walk faster- not wanting anyone to see Louis so soft and pliant from nothing but his lips, tongue, and teeth. 

It’s windier outside so Harry hands off his jacket to Louis who blushes as he puts it on. He offers his arm to the omega who gently grabs hold as they walk arm in arm down the road, stopping at every lamppost because Harry can’t help but grip Louis by the chin and kiss him some more. 

Louis blushes deeper every single time and Harry can honestly say he’s addicted to seeing him this way. Shy but giddy and happy. Pretty and sweet and, for once, unworried about anything else. 

The moon is low in the sky by the time they finally stumble back to the lake. Harry awaits the usual plea for him to leave but is surprised when Louis falls into his arms, burying his head into Harry’s neck. “I don’t want you to go,” he confesses. 

“I don’t want to go either,” Harry says, placing one hand on the back of Louis’ head and petting his hair gently. Louis mewls, lips brushing against Harry’s skin teasingly. 

“No, I mean… I want you to stay for…” Louis trails off shyly. 

Harry blinks, realization striking him. Louis wants him to be there when he transforms. He trusts Harry to be with him in such a vulnerable and terrible time. Heart warm, Harry nods. 

“Of course, I’ll stay,” he says gently. It may mean he has to run back to the castle to make it before his normal wake up time, but it’ll be entirely worth it. 

“Okay,” Louis says. “It’ll only be ten more minutes. Talk to me please.” He tilts his head up to smile coyly at Harry. “How jealous were you at the tavern?”

Harry growls. “So jealous.” He bunches up the fabric of Louis’ dress in his hand, fingers brushing Louis’ arse. The omega jumps, gasping breathily. 

_He’s so responsive_ , Harry thinks. And he’s barely even touching the omega. If he had the opportunity to have his way with him… 

But no- it’s not going to happen like that. Harry wants to take it slow. He’s pretty sure Louis would prefer that too considering how red and flustered he gets when things point a certain direction. 

“But the only one you like is _me_ ,” Harry continues smugly. He slots their lips together again, smiling at the way Louis immediately opens up for him. 

Predictably, they don’t actually end up doing much more talking as the sun begins to rise. When the first rays cast their light over the lake, Louis pulls back. Harry squeezes his hands reassuringly. The omega looks scared, but determined.

Very carefully, Louis takes his hands from Harry and takes a few steps back. “I won’t be able to understand you,” he warns nervously. He’s shaking and Harry aches at the sight. 

The other four swans have come out of hiding, squawking and flapping their wings excitedly by the water’s edge. Harry barely notices them. 

The sun rises higher and higher, casting a ray over Louis’ body and illuminating him. Harry’s breath catches at the sight because, _fuck_ , Louis looks so beautiful under the sunlight just like he does in the moonlight. He’s stunning under any light really, or even in the darkness. 

The glow grows and Harry holds his breath, wishing he could hold the omega as he begins trembling. Like the first time, the light grows brighter and brighter until Harry’s squinting and straining his eyes. 

And then the shape is shrinking until it flashes out completely, leaving a swan in its place. 

Harry’s heart drops. It shouldn’t hurt this much, seeing him transform, because he already knew it was going to happen. He’s seen Louis as a swan before and he knows he’ll be back to a human when the night arrives again, but it still hurts. 

Because he shouldn’t have to go through this at _all_. 

All because he didn’t want to marry an alpha. All because he said _‘no’_ in a kingdom where omegas are expected to always say _‘yes’_. 

Harry kneels to the ground in front of the swan. He knows Louis said that he wouldn’t be able to understand what he says, but looking into his eyes and seeing the sorrow there, makes Harry think that Louis’ swan counterpart is still somewhat aware. 

“We’re going to fix this,” he murmurs out loud. “I swear it on my life, baby.” 

He should feel stupid sitting here and talking to a swan, but all he feels is exceptionally determined. 

-

Over the next week, Harry and Louis spend their time together hiding their giddy smiles and intertwining their hands as they take more walks. Everything feels sweet and precious and perfect and Harry’s never felt so content in his life. 

They do take it slow- just long, sweet kisses and lots of hugging and clinging and scenting and breathing in the same air. Louis shyly confesses that their kiss was his first and Harry goes home feeling very happy (and maybe a tad smug) that he’s the only one in the world who knows the taste of Louis’ lips and the sounds he makes when Harry touches him. 

Gods, every time Harry touches him, he loses the will to leave him a little bit more. 

And it’s so fucking unfair that he has to leave at the end of the night and return to the castle where no one listens to what he has to say unless he fights them and where he’s constantly reminded that he’s going to be engaged in just two weeks now. 

Two weeks. 

Fourteen days. It’s his last weeks of freedom. 

He thinks back to the night where he finally confessed his impending marriage to Louis. He had been sad but resigned, admitting to Harry that he had already expected it was coming soon since the tradition had been in place for so many decades. 

Harry had assured him that he’s going through with it against his wishes, and that he would do everything he could to help Louis as soon as possible. Neither one of them acknowledged their deadline. 

Once Harry picked his bride, their engagement and all accompanying festivities and events would follow. Then they’d have their courting period for about six months before they would be married. Another six months after, everyone would be expecting a pregnancy announcement. 

There’s nothing Harry’s ever wanted more in life than to fall in love and then raise a family with that person. Now he’s getting all the parts of his family but not in the way he wants them. He can’t help but think of Louis when he imagines his perfect reality. He and Louis falling in love (he’s finally understood what Ava meant when she said sometimes you can know you’re going to fall in love with someone before it actually happens), him getting Louis pregnant (the thought makes him unbelievably riled up every single time), him and Louis raising their children together. Louis ruling by his side and giving him advice and getting to make art which everyone appreciates… 

But they’re all just dreams. 

Because as of this moment, Harry only has two weeks to fall for Louis and save him before everything falls apart. They haven’t talked about it, but Harry is pretty certain Louis will refuse to continue their relationship when he’s engaged- unwanted or not. 

And he respects that. 

Their newfound giddiness and happiness has an expiration date which both of them are doing their best to ignore. 

Despite that depressing note, Harry is still more content than he had been in _months._ Nessa and Josie have noticed, his mum has noticed, and Liam confirms that he’s noticed when they fence one afternoon. 

“You look so much happier, mate,” Liam mentions when they’re stripping out of their sweaty gear after a long, grueling session of duels and bouts. 

Harry hums his acknowledgement. “Must be that it’s springtime. This April has been really gorgeous, hasn’t it?”

When he glances up, Liam is giving him an unimpressed look. 

“What?” Harry asks. 

“First of all, when the fuck have you ever cared about the seasons?” asks Liam. _Since Louis made me appreciate things more,_ he thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud. “And aren’t you upset about the ball being so close?”

Harry makes a face. “I’m kind of trying to ignore that, Liam, thanks.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “And what about how you and Niall haven’t talked in weeks and how he said he thinks it’s because your father is unhappy about your guys’ friendship.”

This time Harry does grimace, guilt clawing its way up his throat. Another thing he’s been avoiding. How once again, he’s let his father and his title dictate his life to the point where he’s hurting people he cares about. “I…”

“I’m not going to yell at you about that, mate,” says Liam, shaking his head. “It’s just weird. All this shit would normally be making you upset and instead you’re grinning randomly for no reason even though you look like you haven’t slept properly in ages.”

He hasn’t slept properly in ages because he hasn’t been sleeping much in _general,_ alternating between visiting Louis as much as possible or tossing and turning in bed all night while crumbling under the weight of his future and wishing he could be with Louis instead. 

Gods, he’s so dependent on Louis already. 

“I don’t know, mate… I’m just trying not to dwell on it?” he says reluctantly. “I just want to savor this freedom I have before it all goes away.” 

Liam stares at him. “When did you start pretending that what you have right _now_ is freedom?”

Harry doesn’t answer. 

“Right,” says Liam with a sigh. He stands up, back in his regular clothes and frowning. “Keep hiding things from me if that’s what you want.” 

Harry opens his mouth to protest, but Liam just shakes his head and begins to walk away. 

“Liam-”

“Talk to me when you’re going to be honest,” Liam says over his shoulder. “I’ve been your friend for years, Harry. I care about you and I want the best for you. I want to _help_ you but I can’t do that if you’re not honest with me.”

And just like that, Liam grips his things to his chest and keeps walking until he’s out of sight. 

Harry collapses back onto the bench, still clutching his mask and bib. He still looks forward to seeing Louis, but he really, _really_ misses his friends. 

-

“Do you think I’m doing the wrong thing in staying silent and not fighting my father?” Harry asks, eyes closed as Louis runs his fingers through his hair. He’s laying down with his head in Louis’ lap, completely immersed in the smell of lavender and vanilla like he wants to be all the time. They’re situated near the water’s edge- Harry dipping his bare feet in the cool water lazily. 

Louis is wearing the cotton trousers he got at Tara’s and they feel soft against his cheek when Harry turns slightly to nestle into Louis’ leg. The omega huffs at his actions. 

“No,” he says a moment later. Harry appreciates that he takes the time to think through his answers. “I think you’re biding your time until you’re king and your voice will actually be heard.”

“But will it be heard?” asks Harry, eyebrows furrowed. Biting his lip nervously, he voices his secret concern, “What if the council never takes me seriously, even when I’m king?”

Louis hums. “If you demand it, they’ll listen.” 

Harry sighs. He doesn’t want to demand it. He wants to run a kingdom full of light and love, one in which it’s inhabitants aren’t anything like the close-minded citizens they are now. One where he and Louis could be together with no worries about class and status or judgement. 

Louis runs a hand through his curls softly before brushing a finger over Harry’s lips. Harry smiles despite himself. 

“You’re smart, Harry,” says Louis quietly. “You could get anyone to listen to you. You got _me_ to listen to you.” 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, before parting his lips and biting at Louis’ index finger. The omega makes a sound, jolting. “But what if me choosing to be silent is making me lose friends who I care about.”

“How so?” Louis wonders. 

Harry grimaces. “My father doesn’t want me to be around Niall- he’s a beta who works in the kitchen and he’s my oldest friend.” He nuzzles his way further into the warmth of Louis’ leg. “We used to sneak out together and go to town so I could get a taste of freedom and he could benefit off a prince’s allowance.” He smirks. 

“If he means a lot to you, I don’t think your friendship will fade that easily,” says Louis sadly. “That’s what I hope is true for me and Zayn at least… And the girls when they’re human again.”

When. Not if. 

“They will,” says Harry confidently. “It’s _you_.” 

“And _you_ ,” Louis parrots. 

Harry huffs. “Okay, fine.” He opens his eyes and finds Louis’ own staring down at him fondly. Then he sits up and slides his arms around Louis’ waist. “Your turn.” 

He pulls a blushing Louis onto his lap and wastes no time in licking into his mouth. Louis whimpers faintly and Harry captures the sound, biting back a groan as Louis squirms against his rapidly growing bulge. It’s still slow and soft and meticulous as Louis slides his hands back into Harry’s hair and Harry skims his own hands up the omega’s sides and under the fabric of his shirt, spreading his fingers out against his warm skin. 

They spend too much and still not enough time locked up together like this but Harry really can’t complain. They still talk with hushed voices and small smiles. Harry finds himself falling deeper and deeper. 

But he’s not there yet. He won’t be for a while, he thinks. But he’s going to get there no matter how long it takes. Even if he’s engaged and Louis refuses to be with him- he’ll fall from afar. He’s made his promise and he’ll fight to fulfill it relentlessly. 

They play around with the swans for a little bit too and Harry notes, once again, how Louis seems to have a natural maternal instinct. He doesn’t _want_ to notice these things. It just makes things harder in the end. But his alpha can’t help it. 

All too soon, the sun begins to rise. Harry makes himself stay for the transformation every time now- as a reminder of what they’re dealing with, and as a motivation. Everytime, it physically hurts to watch Louis shrink into a creature almost unrecognizable but still delicate and gorgeous. It hurts to see his blue eyes disappear along with his sun kissed skin and golden brown hair. 

Harry has never loathed the sun like he loathes it those mornings. He becomes a lover of the moon- knowing it’s unwavering, calm presence grants Louis his freedom even if it’s only for ten hours. To him, Louis _is_ the moon. 

Overlooked but beautiful, trapped in the darkness yet still unfailingly bright- a steadfast beacon to all the stars and sleepless people. 

He watches the moon disappear from the sky right as his own moon is once again trapped in the body of a creature he once admired. 

“Ma petite lune,” he whispers, crouching down to account for Louis’ small height. “I’m going to save you.” 

-

Without telling Louis, Harry does some research. 

He calls in a giant favor to Nessa to pick up some books for him discreetly. She doesn’t ask for an explanation and brushes off Harry’s attempts for payment. “Six years ago, you personally financed the recovery of my sister when she got pneumonia. We would never have been able to pay for it otherwise,” she said firmly. “This is nothing, your highness.” 

Harry had been stunned, but warmed all the same. 

She brings him an entire stack a day later: a whole collection of books, both scientific and fantastical, all focusing on sorcery. 

He pours into them, skimming pages and retaining as much information and background as possible. It’s all vague and hypothetical but still he reads and memorizes and researches, spending hours rereading variations of the same tales, eyes blurring at supposed spell recipes and ingredient descriptions. 

There’s so many types of magic- he learns. Sorcery is a form that requires the user to harness the powers of damned spirits- mythical demons from the “shadow realm”. It sounds like the stuff of kids’ stories. 

He reads thousands of pages in mere days, but only finds a few pieces of useful information. A clarification on terms of a curse where Harry realizes that words hold more power than he thinks. 

After a few days of research, he stumbles upon a page on something more important: a way to counteract the curse while also taking away the powers of a sorcerer. The only problem is that it’s unproved and potentially _impossible_. 

It has to do with spirit stones. 

As in, the source of their powers. Louis had told him about Rothbart’s staff, and specifically, the amethyst that’s embedding the in headpiece of said staff. That amethyst is the source of Rothbart’s powers. 

And if it’s destroyed, there’s a very good chance, it’ll reverse every curse or spell Rothbart has ever cast, including Louis’ curse. 

But it’s never been tested. 

Harry makes note of it anyway. 

-

One week. One week until the ball. That’s all he has. It’s coming closer and closer with every passing second and there’s nothing Harry can do to stop it. 

He feels anxious and antsy all the time, tossing and turning in bed on the nights he doesn’t go and see Louis (nights that are becoming less and less frequent) and sad on the nights he does and has to force himself to leave in the morning. 

He walks around almost dazedly, mind whirling with a million thoughts, ninety percent of which revolve around Louis, and the remaining percent focusing on his approaching dooms date are the most distressing. He has to pick someone is the thing- pick an omega who isn’t Louis and announce to the entire kingdom that they’re getting married. 

The top five hasn’t been narrowed down anymore. At this point, Harry is relying on the impressions these omegas will make on him when they meet for the first time. There’s only so much you can learn about a person through carefully considered words printed on paper- seeing someone in person, seeing their emotions, habits, body language, and behavior is entirely different. 

And that’s what Harry needs to finally make a choice. 

He doesn’t tell his father this of course, always brushing off his questions with vague assurances of how he already has someone in mind (that someone in his mind is not who his father would ever guess). 

“Is everything alright, darling?” his mother asks.

They’re having lunch alone in the queen’s private gardens and Harry once again found himself drowning under the weight of his expectations. 

“Fine, just nervous,” he says nonchalantly. He hesitates. “Can I ask you a question?”

His mother smiles warmly. “You can ask me any question.”

“Even if it’s something about… you and Father?” continues Harry cautiously. 

His mother frowns for a moment before nodding firmly. 

Harry clears his throat anxiously. “Do you regret marrying him?”

Queen Anne blinks, taken aback. Then she sighs. “No, Harry, I don’t.”

Harry frowns. “Even though he’s... well, you guys have different beliefs and he never listens to yours even though they’re wonderful. And he refuses to fix things for omega rights and cares so much about our reputation- more than he cares about me and Gemma I feel like.”

“Darling, that’s not true,” says his mother. “He loves you and he thinks keeping your reputations intact is protecting you. And honey, believe me, I disagree with so much your father does and there are times that I wish I had just backed out of the engagement… but I could never fully regret it because it brought me you and your sister.”

Her words are sincere and steadfast. 

Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “You shouldn’t have to live like this,” he says, distraught. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that while he’s been miserable with being trapped in his role as prince for years now, his mother has been a prisoner to a sexist system for much longer. And so has so many other omegas- and they don’t get the same privilege or luxurious life his mother received. 

“Gods, I can’t wait to be king,” murmurs Harry. 

His mother smiles sadly at him, but there’s a flicker of excitement in her eyes. “Me too, darling. Me too.”

-

“Liam,” Harry greets when his friend opens the door. The alpha looks unhappy so he cuts right to the chase. “I’m sorry for being an ass. You were right… I was keeping something from you, but… it’s a lot more complicated than you think.”

Liam doesn’t say anything and instead crosses his arms, waiting. 

Harry bites his lip. “Can I come in? This is kind of confidential.”

His friend nods slowly, moving aside to let him enter. Harry takes a deep breath before sitting down in one of Liam’s armchairs. The alpha lives in a flat located in the heart of the capital, just a few minutes ride from the castle. However, he spends so much time at the castle, it’s been weird to have to come see him at his actual home. 

Liam takes a seat across from him, expression unreadable. 

Harry exhales shakily, praying that Liam will listen to him and then believe him even though it sounds insane. He decides he just has to do it. 

With another deep breath, he starts talking. “Remember how on my birthday, I went off by myself for a little bit? Well…”

-

“Where are we going?” Louis asks. His eyes are covered by a scarf and Harry is leading him by holding him from behind, arms wrapped securely around his middle and guiding him through the forest. 

“You’ll see,” Harry says, grinning. 

He made Louis dress in his trousers and brought some boots for him too because they’re going to be walking for a bit later on. 

They reach the edge of the forest and Harry gently unfastens the scarf, watching as Louis’ eyes widen. “Is that a _horse_?”

Harry glances at Darcy who’s nibbling on some grass. He mentally thanks Liam once again for agreeing to bring her out to the road where the passageway ends so Harry could take her to see Louis. _And_ he mentally thanks him for playing along when Harry told his parents he was staying at Liam’s for the night, giving him the opportunity to visit Louis as soon as he transformed into a human and spend the entire night with him. 

He _really_ should have told the alpha sooner.

“Yeah, this is Darcy. She’s mine,” he says proudly. 

Louis grabs his hand and practically runs to the creature. “She’s gorgeous,” Louis whispers. “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

“Well, you’re going to now,” says Harry. He intertwines their fingers and squeezes tenderly. “C’mon, baby.” 

The omega blushes and Harry revels in the right as always. 

Harry helps Louis get on first, hoisting him up so he can swing his legs over. Then he slides on in front of him, instructing Louis to hold onto him. “Don’t be shy, I definitely don’t mind,” he says cheekily. 

Louis pinches him on the side. 

They take off down the road, heading for town. 

One day. One day until the ball. This is their last night together. 

Their last night of freedom. 

They stop at a post for horses and Harry slides off first, before helping Louis down. He grips the omega by the waist and spins him a bit before setting him on the ground. The omega hides his blush in Harry’s chest and Harry chuckles, hopelessly endeared. His grin almost hurts. 

“Where are we going now?” mumbles Louis, muffled by Harry’s chest. 

“A lot of places,” whispers Harry. He links their hands together. “This is all for you.” 

They stop at a bakery first and Louis has his first pastry in years. Harry offers to buy him one of each but Louis scolds him, saying he already ate as a swan plenty and he’ll barely be able to finish more than one. 

The next stop is a play. They sneak in from the back and Harry keeps his hood low so no one can recognize him. It’s Shakespeare and Harry’s seen it before, but watching the awe and delight on Louis’s face as the story progresses is worth it. 

By then it’s finally after midnight and Harry brings out his lantern as they walk down the street, arms linked and sides brushing on every step. 

“Harry,” says Louis, stopping abruptly. 

“Yeah, is everything okay?” Harry asks worriedly. He cups Louis’ face and meets his eyes, alarmed at the wetness he sees. 

“No,” says Louis, shaking his head. “I’m just so _happy_.” 

Harry’s heart soars. “I’m so happy you’re happy, darling.” 

Louis leans into his hand, eyes fluttering shut. “I never thought I’d be happy again after Rothbart cursed me- I thought he stole everything from me. But then you found me and I realized there’s still hope. Not just to break the curse- but for me to be happy and find love. _Actual_ love.” 

“Baby, I feel the same,” whispers Harry. He kisses Louis’ forehead tenderly, heart swelling. He’s so close, he can feel it. So close to being able to say those three words and swear devotion to this wonderful omega. 

He wipes the tear that falls from Louis’ eye with a gentle thumb, tracing the arch of his cheekbone with a featherlight touch before leaning in to seal their lips together. He pours everything he has into this kiss: his affection, his hope, his pain, his promise, his desperation. And Louis takes them all and gives his own, their tears bleeding together as they cling and clutch. 

“Harry,” Louis whispers. “I want you to make love to me.”

Harry freezes, eyes opening to meet Louis’ own glassy ones. “Sweetheart, are you sure?”

The omega nods. “I’ve never… I’ve never wanted to do it with anyone but I want it with you. I want _you_ , please. Please take care of me.”

Harry’s insides burn at the plea. Louis’ never been intimate with anyone and he wants Harry to be his _first_. It makes his alpha feel feral with desire and want. 

“I’ll take care of you,” he promises, pecking him chastely on the lips before dragging his lips down his neck and suckling at the skin right by his bonding spot. “I promise I’ll always take care of you. Even if I can’t be with you anymore.”

Louis shudders, choking out a sob. Harry holds him close. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs. He’s so fucking close. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” Louis breathes. “I want to... with you. _Please_.” 

Harry tucks his nose in Louis’ scent gland, inhaling his sweet scent for a few moments. “Okay, baby.” 

They book a room at an inn. It’s not exactly how Harry would have planned this had he had some prior notice, but he’s still going to do everything he can to make it special. Unable to make himself leave Louis alone for even a second, he pays one of the inn maids to get them some candles and flowers if she can find any. 

They light the candles together, some part of them touching at all times. Harry doesn’t want to let go, ever, but he knows soon he’ll have to. So until then, he touches and holds and savors. 

Louis gets anxious when Harry begins taking off his coat. He’s flushed and trembling the slightest bit, but Harry knows it’s not of fear or uncertainty. He takes his hand and squeezes reassuringly, before kneeling down with a knee on the floor. He gently takes Louis’ right foot and rests it on his bent leg, unlacing the boot and sliding it off along with the small lacy socks Louis had gotten at Tara’s. He does the same for the other foot, massaging the omega’s delicate ankles soothingly when they’re both bare.

“Thank you,” whispers Louis. 

“I care about you so much,” Harry whispers back. “No matter what happens, we’re going to do this _together_. And it’s going to be perfect.” He’s not just talking about tonight. 

Louis nods, tugging shyly at Harry’s shirt to pull him up and into him. 

Harry goes slow, cupping Louis’ face and licking into his parted lips. Louis moans softly as he nibbles on the omega’s bottom lip. He slides his hands up and down Louis’ back, keeping his touch warm and gentle; soothing. 

The smell of lavender and vanilla intensifies and Harry recognizes it as slick. He groans into Louis’ mouth, hands slipping down to grip his arse. The omega squeaks, head tipping back to expose his neck as Harry trails his tongue down the curve of his throat. 

“My lovely omega,” he murmurs, pressing the words into Louis’ pulse. He bites down a bit, savoring the sweet taste of his skin. The omega shudders, clinging helplessly to Harry’s biceps and arching into his chest. 

He slides one hand up to carefully undo the ties of Louis’ shirt, slipping the soft silk material off and throwing it onto a nearby chair. His eyes rake over the exposed skin: golden, smooth skin, pink and small nipples, a little dusting of soft hair, and the small curve of his stomach. “Beautiful,” he whispers. Louis flushes all the way down to his belly button. 

Harry walks them backwards until the backs of Louis’ calves hit the bed frame. He scoops the omega up, laying him on the mattress gently, lips never leaving his for a second. 

“Let me,” murmurs Louis when Harry goes to unbutton his shirt. He crawls onto the bed, and planks over the omega who spreads automatically for him, looking at him with soft, adoring eyes. Small fingers fumble with his buttons. Harry sucks marks onto Louis’ collarbone and chest as he gets them all done. Then he shrugs off his shirt and flings it away too. 

Louis traces his tattoos with curious fingers, brushing against Harry’s abs and making the alpha shiver. “I didn’t know princes were allowed to get tattoos,” he whispers. 

Harry smirks. “I do what I want.” He wishes it were fully true. But he figures tonight, while they’re living on the edge, he can play into the fantasy a bit. 

He gently wraps a hand around Louis’ wrists and pins them above his head, watching with dark eyes as the omega’s lips part and he immediately falls completely pliant. 

“So good for me,” whispers Harry, ducking down and pressing open-mouthed kisses down the omega’s chest. He pauses at his nipples, breathing hot air on the buds causing them to harden. Louis whines, squirming in Harry’s hold but the alpha stays firm. 

With no warning, he dives down and sucks one nipple into his mouth. Louis whines, arching up into the touch. Harry licks at the bed, flicking his tongue teasingly and sucking. He switches to the other side, lavishing equal attention to both nipples and revelling in the way Louis mewls and shudders at his ministrations. 

He spends some time worshipping Louis’ stomach, nipping at the skin and sucking marks all over it. He bites along his hips too, feeling nearly carnal with the need to claim and mark and brand.

“Hips perfect for bearing children,” he growls, sinking his teeth into the plump flesh. Louis whines, kicking his legs out further for Harry to settle in between. “For my pups,” he adds quietly. 

Harry brushes his lips across the skin above Louis’ trousers, using his free hand to tug at the fabric and slip it down. He presses a kiss to the small bulge in his cotton underwear, and then mouths over it a bit. Louis jerks, moaning loudly. 

_So responsive_ , Harry thinks. 

He reluctantly lets go of Louis’ wrists in favor of gripping his thighs and spreading them apart so he can trail kisses across the soft skin, nipping and biting at the flesh desperately. Harry’s addicted to the taste of Louis’ skin- sweeter than anything he’s ever tasted before. 

He’s trying to go slow but the smell of slick so close to his nose and mouth gets too overwhelming and intoxicating. He slips his fingers into the hem of Louis’ underwear, tugging them down and over his feet, following the movement with featherlight, reverent kisses down his legs. 

He stares hungrily at Louis all laid out and exposed for him. His skin is sun-kissed and flushed, tummy heaving and lips parted. He’s a _dream_ , an angel. The most gorgeous creature to ever walk the earth. And Harry’s so, so lucky. 

He presses a gentle kiss to Louis’ cock, pink and leaking against his stomach. It’s small and pretty like the rest of him. The omega mewls, trembling from the attention. 

“Mmm, bet you taste so sweet, baby,” Harry murmurs as he takes hold of the omega’s thighs and pulls them up and over his shoulders. It exposes Louis’ hole- light pink and puckered and pretty just like the rest of him. He licks his lips, unable to resist nuzzling into the soft skin of Louis’ inner thighs with his entire face. He’s wanted for so long to be able to do this. 

The first lick is just the barest flick of his tongue. It has Louis gasping out, thighs clenching near Harry’s face. Harry groans at the taste- just as sweet, if not more so, then he expected. 

He tightens his grip on the omega’s legs and dives in fully. He circles Louis’ fluttering rim teasingly, nipping at the skin occasionally to see the skin turn that same flushed red that Louis wears so well. Then he flattens his tongue and licks long, dragging stripes up his perineum like a starving man who’s stumbled upon the first food and water he’s seen in months. 

He dips his tongue in teasingly before retracting. “Please, please, please,” Louis begs, writhing. . Harry can’t deny that he loves the sound. He swirls his tongue experimentally, lapping up as much slick as possible. Louis is so _wet._ And Harry can’t get enough. He finally dips his tongue in, greedily licking up as much slick as possible and revelling in the slurping sound it creates.

“ _Mon ange_ ,” he murmurs, "you taste like the nectar of the heavens.”

Louis shudders. 

He’s clutching at the sheets desperately- eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, and cheeks red. There are tear tracks under his eyes and he’s panting. 

Beautiful. Transcendent. Lovely beyond any of Harry’s fantasies. 

He licks into Louis’ hole again, slurping up another wave of slick. 

“Harry,” Louis gasps breathlessly. He gasps, eyes flying open. “I’m going to-”

Harry nuzzles into his thigh again. “Come for me then, baby.” He knows that coming untouched can be painful if it’s their first time, so he gently grips Louis’ cock, marvelling a bit at the size difference. He twists once and Louis is coming with a loud sob, body seizing before falling lax. Harry gently lets go of his legs, letting them fall slack to either side of his body. 

He kisses the omega again, soothing his small whimpers with his tongue and cooing at the way Louis wraps his arms around his neck and clings to him. 

His cock is angry and throbbing painfully, but Louis is always his first priority. He’s going to make this into something Louis won’t ever forget. Something tender and sweet while also making sure he’ll be able to feel it for days. To be able to wear the imprints of Harry’s fingers and cock and mouth for a long, long time. To be able to replay the memory and shiver with lust and pleasure. 

There’s so much Harry wants to do to him- so many dirty, rough things that he’s spent hours in the night dreaming about, but those aren’t for tonight. 

Tonight is for making _love_. 

They kiss for a little bit, Harry leaning over Louis and resting on his forearms and the omega digging his fingers into Harry’s hair helplessly. “I’m ready,” says Louis. “Please.”

Harry presses another kiss to his forehead, and then to his temple, cheek, pulse, and shoulder. Then he carefully sits back, spreading Louis’ legs once again. He slips his rings off one by one- though the idea of leaving them on is intriguing, it’s not for today. Hesitating, he takes his ruby ring and grabs Louis’ right hand, slipping it onto his pointer finger. He ignores his alpha’s desire to slip it onto the omega’s ring finger. 

Louis’ still leaking a steady stream of slick so Harry meets barely any resistance when he slowly slides his index finger in. Louis’ hole is tight, so fucking tight- but the omega opens up for him, quivering with want. He marvels at the knowledge that he’s the only one who’s had Louis like this- who’s seen him so pliant and flushed and vulnerable. 

He wants to be the only one. 

“Relax, darling,” Harry whispers as he slides his finger in and out. It’s almost fascinating, seeing a part of him disappear inside Louis- the omega used to not trust him at all but now he’s allowing Harry to enter his most intimate parts, watching his finger be enveloped so perfectly by Louis’ hole. It’s a sight Harry won’t forget. 

He keeps his movements measured and drawn-out, wanting Louis to feel every bit of his finger inside him. “Look at me,” he commands. 

Louis’ eyes flutter open, wide and glazed. He looks _wrecked_ and Harry’s alpha grunts in satisfaction. He keeps their eye contact steady as he slowly inches a second finger in. Louis squirms a bit at the extra intrusion but Harry rubs circles on his skin tenderly until he untenses. 

“You’re doing so well,” he praises softly. “So well, darling.”

He knows the first time always hurts, no matter how long you prep, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to loosen Louis up as much as possible so it’s as painless as possible. He trades between crooking his fingers and scissoring them, making sure he’s being spread out as much as possible, getting him ready for Harry’s much larger cock. 

Louis is thrashing by the time he works him up to three fingers, mewling and yelping as Harry seeks out his prostate. 

Harry muffles his noises by locking their lips together again, greedily swallowing down every gasp and whimper and moan and saving them in a special place in his mind to remember with awe later on. 

Just in case, he adds in his fourth finger, groaning at the tight feel. His cock is going to be there in a few moments and he knows it’s going to be incredible. 

“M’ready,” Louis whispers again. He bucks his hips, pushing back onto Harry’s fingers as if to emphasize his point. “Please, Harry.” 

“I’ve got you,” Harry murmurs tenderly, before sliding his fingers out. Louis whines at the loss but Harry doesn’t let him feel the emptiness for too long. He slicks up his cock with his wet fingers and angles himself at Louis’ rim. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart.” He links one of his hands with one of Louis’, intertwining their fingers and squeezing. “Tell me if it hurts, baby.” 

Louis nods, eyes squeezing shut as Harry slowly eases his way in. He goes painstakingly slow, biting back a groan at how fucking _good_ it feels. Louis is completely enveloping him in his tight heat and Harry’s almost feral with how much he wants to move, to _take_. 

But he doesn’t. He pauses every few seconds to let Louis adjust and breathe. The omega is holding onto his hand almost excruciatingly. When his cock is finally buried fully up to the hilt, he exhales. “Baby, look at me,” he directs gently. 

Louis obliges, staring up at Harry with wide, wet blue eyes. Harry’s heart thrums painfully. 

“Does it hurt?” he asks. 

“A little but not too bad,” Louis admits, but Harry can see the strain in his jaw as he clenches his teeth and the little wrinkle between his brows. He waits a little bit longer, tracing small hearts into the skin of Louis’ stomach. His insides feel like they’re on fire. He’s _inside_ Louis, the only one who has had the honor. Hopefully forever. 

“Tell me when you’re ready,” he whispers after a bit. He can’t say he’s too mad about them just waiting - Louis is keeping his cock nice and warm. 

The omega nods. “Now. M’ready now.” It comes out soft and slurred, voice raspy and raw and so beautiful. 

Harry leans down to peck him once on the lips, squeezing their linked hands once before he slowly eases out again. He carefully grips Louis by the thighs, guiding him into wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist. Louis clamps his legs around him tightly and Harry can’t help but smile. 

He pistons his hips forward slowly, watching the expressions on Louis’ face turn from curiosity to pain to pleasure. He continues the same slow pace for a little bit until Louis begins to adjust and starts egging him on. 

“Harder, Harry, please,” he begs. “Knot me, knot me, knot me-”

“So desperate,” Harry grunts, slamming into Louis faster. The omega jolts up the bed, mouth falling open in a high moan. Harry adjusts the angle and drives into him again, unyielding and deliberate. “Want me to fill you up, baby?”

“Yes,” Louis whimpers. “Please, please, fill me up.”

Harry groans, the idea of coming inside Louis, of filling him up and possibly _impregnating_ him, is too much to handle. Obviously he’s well aware that you can only impregnate an omega during a heat which occurs every other month, and one important caveat of Louis’ curse is that he doesn’t undergo any heats. 

But his alpha can’t tell the difference right now. 

A mixture of lavender, vanilla, and his own scent of (according to Louis) pine and apples blends together to create an intoxicating scent that permeates the air around them until Harry isn’t aware of anything but Louis and his desire to knock him up- to fill him up with pups, to keep him barefoot and pregnant, to take care of him like he wants to more than anything in the world. 

“You’ll carry my pups like a good omega,” Harry groans as he slams into Louis again and again. The headboard is slapping against the wall with the force of his thrusts and each loud _thump_ is a reminder of how good Harry’s giving it to him. “Be a fantastic mother… and queen.”

Louis gasps out, choking on a sob. He digs his fingers into Harry’s shoulders, most definitely leaving marks behind. He clenches down on Harry’s cock and the alpha groans again. “Harry,” breathes Louis. 

Harry growls, changing his angle again and ramming into him harder than before. Louis shouts, legs spasming as he comes a second time, this time completely untouched. Harry mumbles mindless praise of how beautiful the omega looks- how stunning and angelic and sweet he sounds when he comes. 

Louis mewls, completely docile as Harry chases his own release. He’s sped up to an almost animalistic pace, jolting Louis further up the mattress with every thrust and most definitely leaving marks on Louis’ hips as he grips into them. 

He feels his knot start to expand and shoves in a final time, feeling the knot lock into place as Louis gasps and Harry groans. He comes, filling Louis up with so much cum, his alpha is convinced he’s succeeded in knocking him up. “Good omega,” he murmurs, voice shot and deeper than usual. “Gonna carry my pups.” 

“Yes, Alpha,” Louis moans. He strokes his stomach lightly. “Can already feel them.” 

Harry growls, slotting their lips together again. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but still sweet. Unable to help himself, he feels around Louis’ stretched rim, completely in awe of them being attached in the most intimate way possible. 

“I love you,” Louis breathes. 

Harry freezes. 

By the time he pulls back to look him in the eye, Louis is crying. . The omega shakes his head, his voice rough from yelling and his body still twitches with the aftershocks. “I don’t care if you’re not there yet. I just want you to know before you go to the ball and have to leave me,” he stutters. 

“I’m not going to leave you,” Harry says fiercely. He wipes at Louis cheeks tenderly, feeling his own tears form in his eyes. “I did some research on sorcery,” he blurts desperately. 

Louis bites his lip. “What did you find?”

Harry sighs, brushing a few strands of soft hair out of the omega’s face and avoiding his eyes. He considers telling him about the stone theory but the fact that it’s untested and seemingly impossible dampens his mood too much so he decides against it. “Not too much. But if I’m supposed to break the curse, I can’t say… you know what until I actually mean them or it’ll take away the power. That’s the tricky thing about this curse. I have to be _sure._ I’m almost there but…”

“Not quite,” says Louis with a smile and a slight blush. “Harry, I get it. Love isn’t straightforward- it takes a while for some people, but that doesn’t mean you care about me less. You - you’ve just proved that.”

“I care about you so much,” says Harry wetly. Louis smiles at him, but it’s wobbly. He crumples right after and Harry coos, brushing their noses together and wiping at Louis’ cheeks again. 

Louis nuzzles into his touch, weeping softly while Harry fusses over him. He presses feathlight kisses to his eyelids and cheeks, tasting the salt of the omega’s tears on his tongue. He maps out every slope and curve of Louis’ face with his lips and fingers. The slope of his nose, the arch of his cheekbones, the small bow of his lips, and the curve of his throat- he traces over them all, storing them away so he’ll always have the memory even when he can’t have the real thing. 

And in turn, Louis does the same. He rakes trembling fingers over Harry’s face, touching tenderly and reverently like he can’t believe Harry’s here. 

They’re existing in their own little world, but they both know it can’t last. 

“We have to leave after this,” says Louis brokenly, exhaling shakily. 

Harry’s heart drops. He’s right, but Harry desperately doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want to leave this world where it’s just the two of them, where they’re just Harry and Louis- two boys falling in love, two boys who are _free._

“You have to be back in the forest by dawn,” says Harry. “I made a promise to take care of you, baby, and I’m not going to break it. _Ever._ ” Even if he has to take care of Louis from afar. Even if he has to do it platonically. 

Harry’s knot deflates and he pulls out, both of them hissing at the oversensitivity. They’re both still crying as Harry cleans Louis up and their tears mix together as they kiss. It’s more brushing of lips and teeth knocking than anything solid, but it’s lovely either way. Everything with Louis is lovely. 

Neither of them want to leave yet, so Harry pulls Louis to his chest, laying back on the pillows. He presses one hand to the omega’s stomach in an almost possessive hold. Louis nuzzles into his chest, kissing both of his swallow tattoos softly before relaxing. 

He’s asleep by the time Harry picks him up, all delicate innocence and beauty. Harry can’t help himself in sliding an arm under his knees and another around his back to hold him close for another moment, before he wakes him up. “Lou… Lou-baby, wake up.” 

Louis snuffles, rubbing his face into Harry’s chest. Harry’s heart aches. Gods, how is he supposed to leave Louis in the forest and return to the castle when Louis looks like _this_? 

“Petite lune, wake up,” he sings quietly. Louis’ eyes flutter open, eyebrows furrowing adorably in bewilderment. 

“Little moon?” he asks, blushing. 

Harry blushes too. “You’re like the moon - the most beautiful thing in the night. Always shining so bright even when the darkness tries to hide it. When it’s just us in the forest, in our own little world,” Harry pauses, stroking his cheek softly as he smiles, “You’re my moon.” 

Another tear falls from Louis’ eye and he buries his face into Harry’s chest, trembling. “I love you,” he says brokenly.

Harry kisses him again. 

-

After getting dressed and checking out, Harry lifts Louis back onto Darcy, heart sinking the further they travel away from the village and closer to their impending fates. 

He rides slower than usual, keeping Darcy at a trot instead of a gallop as they make their way down the familiar roads to the forest. Louis plasters himself to Harry’s back, face pressed to Harry’s spine and arms tight around him. 

All too soon, the familiar line of trees enters their sight. Harry comes to a stop, heart aching as Louis clutches him tighter. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” the omega whispers again, so quietly Harry barely catches it. 

“I don’t want to leave,” says Harry sadly. He reluctantly pries himself out of Louis’ grip, sliding off the horse and turning to help his pouting omega down. _His_. 

For tonight, Louis is still _his_ omega. 

But the night is slowly drawing to an end. The moon is low in the sky and soon it’ll be gone and Louis will be a swan. They walk through the trees with their arms wrapped around each other, stopping every few minutes to join their lips again. Louis’ lips taste salty from his tears, but still sweet. Always sweet. 

For the first time in a long time, the sight of the lake brings Harry immense heartbreak. He pulls Louis into his arms, almost lifting him in the air with the strength of his embrace. “I love you,” Louis mumbles into his collar. 

“Stop taunting me,” Harry says, pained. He can’t say it until he really knows he means it, or Louis is doomed. 

“I can’t help it,” Louis whispers, leaning up on his tiptoes to kiss each of Harry’s cheeks. He pecks his lips too and Harry yanks him closer before he can pull away. “I’m still wearing your ring,” mumbles Louis in between kisses. 

“It’s your ring now,” Harry says. 

“It’s going to fall off my finger,” Louis says. “You’re bigger than me.”

Harry’s cock twitches at the words but he ignores it. “I’ll bring you a chain so you can wear it as a necklace. But it’s yours. A reminder that I’m always with you, even when I can’t be physically.” 

Louis nods dazedly. “I love you,” he says again and Harry groans, tightening his hold. 

“If you keep saying it, I’ll never leave,” he growls, jaw clenched in an effort to control himself. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I-”

Harry silences him with a kiss.

In ten minutes, Harry is forced, once again, to watch the omega he very nearly loves, transform into a swan. 

And still Harry waits another ten minutes before he gathers up the courage to leave, heart sinking with every step he takes. 

-

The past three months have been filled with increasing dread and crisp trepidation for the day of the ball. Harry’s spent hours stressing over it, cursing it’s existence, and maybe crying about it a little bit too- because this day is the end of his freedom and the end of just Harry. It’s the beginning of the rest of his life as Prince, soon to be King Harry Styles. 

But now that it’s finally arrived. 

Harry just feels tired. Not apprehensive or scared, just exhausted. It almost feels anticlimactic going through his daily routines. Go for a run. Shower. Get dressed. Eat breakfast. Visit the tailor for last minute altercations. Attend a council meeting with last minute prep for the ball (as in, lots of middle-aged men trying to tell Harry what sort of omega would cause him the least trouble which is… revolting). Eat lunch. Fence with Liam (featuring a lot of aggression channeling). And then another long meeting with his father where he’s lectured about the newspapers, his reputation, and his legacy over and over again until the words were blurring in his mind, one big jumbled mess of _king standards expectations pressure_.

And suddenly he’s back in his room, getting dressed in his suit: dark blue and gold (Orciela’s colors) with the help of Nessa and Josie. Nessa paints his nails dark blue and brushes golden powder over his cheekbones. Josie messes with his hair a bit until it’s brushed and a few stray curls are hanging alluringly over his forehead. 

They both look apologetic and sympathetic when he finally dismisses them with a heavy voice. 

It’s nearing sunset, which means soon Louis will be transforming into a human again, back at Swan Lake as Harry’s come to call it. He wishes he were right there with him, seeing the light flutter of his eyelashes or the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles really big. He wants to run his hands through the omega’s soft hair and bury his nose into his scent gland until it calms them both. 

But he can’t. Because he has to attend a ball. He has to talk to omegas and dance with them and ultimately choose one of them to be his fiance and then announce their engagement. He has to swear fealty to this person when all his heart wants is Louis. 

The time is ticking down. 

In three hours, he’ll have a fiance. 

In three hours, he’ll lose his chance at finding love for himself. 

In three hours, everything will be gone. 

-

“You look so handsome, darling,” says his mother. She’s dressed in a gorgeous midnight blue gown with little glittering stars sewn in the skirt that trails across the floor behind her. She’s beaming at him with a mixture of pride and love. 

Harry hugs her, inhaling the comforting smell of roses and sugar that have always been so comforting to him. “I’m nervous,” he whispers into her ear. 

She hugs him tightly. “You’re my son. And you’re going to make the right choice, I believe that 100%.” 

Harry drops his head to her shoulder with a sigh. He hopes she’s right. 

“Son!” exclaims his father, strolling into the room, flanked by four guards. He’s dressed in his most pompous suit, a matching blue to Anne’s but embellished with so many medals and pins which Harry’s very sure don’t actually mean anything. And on his head is the crown that Harry will one day wear on his own. “You look sharp,” says his father approvingly. “Fit for an alpha prince.”

Harry smiles, but it’s clearly strained.

“The guests are going to be arriving in twenty minutes. Gemma and her husband are on their way and as are your thirteen candidates,” his father says delightedly. 

Harry narrows his eyes. “Wait, what?”

“And of course, the usuals will be there- the Cartiers, the Auclairs, the Fontaines, and the Waters,” King Des babbles on. 

Harry can’t even express proper dismay at the prospect of having to see Richard tonight because of his alarm. “Hang on, did you say thirteen?”

His father blinks at him, uncomprehendingly. “Hmm?”

“You said thirteen,” Harry says slowly. “There’s only supposed to be twelve.”

His father smiles strangely. “Oh yes of course! I forgot to tell you! We have had a last minute offer for another potential omega!”

Harry blanches. Another person to consider? And one he hasn’t even interacted with prior to today? “Why?” he gets out, voice slightly strangled. 

His father furrows his eyebrows, as if perplexed by the question. He frowns, eyes glazing over a bit. “It was an offer I couldn’t pass up.” It comes out a bit choppy. Harry frowns. 

“You never told me about this,” says his mother, shaking her head. 

“It was decided just this morning,” he dismisses. 

“What’s their name?” Harry asks. 

King Des frowns. “It’s slipped my mind.”

Harry sighs. Another person, for fuck’s sake. The world just can’t take pity on Harry on what may be the worst day of his life? 

“Well, I’m sure they’re lovely,” his mother placates. She squeezes Harry’s shoulder, a silent reminder to behave. He bites back his frustration and nods. 

“Can’t wait to meet them,” he says, hoping it doesn’t come across as being as bitter as he feels. 

“Excellent,” says his father, clapping his hands together. “Now come, we need to get positioned for photos.”

Harry rolls his eyes.

Gemma arrives at the last minute much to Harry’s parents’ annoyance, but she gets away with it as always. Harry hasn’t seen her since his birthday but he doesn’t even get the chance to hug her before they’re being whisked off. 

Some stylists do some final touch-ups for them as they take their seats in the row of thrones. The king in the middle with the queen on his right, Harry on his left, and Gemma on Anne’s right.

And then the announcer is calling out the first names. “Lady Victoria Travars of Champais accompanied by her parents and younger sister.”

The omega that walks down the stairs is gorgeous and Harry has a feeling that they’ll all be attractive, but all he can see is what’s missing. She doesn’t have blue eyes. Her glossy red lips don’t match the pink, soft ones of Harry’s dreams. Her hair is blonde, not light golden brown. 

She’s not Louis. 

Next is Garrett. Then Henry. Geneviève. Emmaline. Sebastian. Tarquin. Elodie. Amélie. Mathieu. Antoine. Allison.

All of them beautiful in their finest dresses and jewelry, but none of them are Louis. 

Harry nearly forgets the mysterious thirteenth person until it’s announced that he’ll be late. A he. Another male omega who isn’t Louis, Harry thinks bitterly. 

He just wants his Louis. 

King Des does his usual introductory ball speech, wishing everyone a wonderful night before servants are entering with food for everyone to eat. Harry knows what he has to do next- individually ask every one of the twelve omegas to dance. He’ll have to talk to them all and make up his mind. 

He eats slowly, but still the food disappears from his plate and he’s unable to stall any longer. He goes in order of arrival, seeking out Victoria and asking her to dance. 

Some of Harry’s friends who are in attendance entertain the remaining omegas as a courtesy, all of them taking their positions on the ballroom floor surrounding Harry. As prince, he’s in the middle. The bull’s eye of the target. The center of attention. He waltzes with Victoria, making polite small talk and keeping an uncrossable distance between them the entire time. 

Harry tries to concentrate, but still his mind rejects any attempts to consider any omega that’s not _his_ omega. 

Garrett is next- a petite, male omega with black hair and wide gray eyes. They exchange more small talk as they waltz around the room. This time Harry manages to sneak in some more personal questions, but he zones out when they’re being answered. Like his mind is intentionally rebelling against himself. 

Because this is _still_ not Louis. 

It’s Henry. 

Not Louis. 

Then Géneviève. Emmaline. Sebastian. 

Not Louis. 

Tarquin. Elodie. Amélie. Mathieu. Antoine.

None of them are Louis. 

He’s on Allison now. A willowy omega with long, brunette curls and kind brown eyes. They had done a round of the floor already and she had already made him smile by complimenting his mother’s beauty. 

Their conversation in general is miles better than any other conversation he’s had tonight. But it’s still not enough. 

They finish the dance and Harry bows while the omega curtsies. Panic is crawling up his throat as he realizes he now has to make a decision and he barely made any progress during the dances. She backs away and Harry retreats to his throne, agitation growing inside him. He makes a move to sit down right as the announcer’s voice is ringing through the air. 

Harry freezes. The thirteenth omega, great. He turns around and immediately stops short, all the breath whooshing out of him in seconds. 

He goes rigid, frozen in place as the omega steps forward. The first thing he sees is the dress- red and bold and beautiful, the brightest and loudest dress in the room. It clings to the omega’s curves like a second skin. The omega’s eyes are focused down at his feet demurely and Harry can’t see it, but he knows he’s blushing. A blush that matches his dress perfectly. 

Harry knows it because he knows this omega. 

Knows his honeyed skin, has seen it in intimate and vulnerable settings. Knows those delicate hands, has intertwined his fingers with those ones many times. 

He knows this omega, knows _his_ omega. 

“Our final candidate, Louis Tomlinson of Illana, along with his father.” 

The omega finally raises his head, the brilliant and beautiful blue eyes Harry’s always been so obsessed with latching onto his own shyly. 

And this time, it _is_ Louis.

-

**_An hour before_ **

Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the feeling of changing into an entirely different species, especially when he’s going from swan to human. One second he’s waddling aimlessly through the waters and the next he’s elongating and slowly gaining back his human consciousness. He always comes back to himself in waves. 

First his senses- always smell first, the rich and earth smell of dirt and the woodsy aroma of trees around him, then touch, sight, and feelings. Emotions always come back later. 

Then his awareness. 

Until then, he’s pretty much disoriented and woozy. It makes him vulnerable, he knows. He was vulnerable when Harry stumbled across the lake and saw him transform and he’s vulnerable every time. Vulnerable and often oblivious.

It’s why when he transforms tonight after a long day as a swan, he doesn’t notice the visitors until it’s too late. 

The breath is knocked out of him in a rush as he’s flung backwards. His back hits the trunk of a tree, harsh and brutal. Pain erupts in his back and he screams, body sliding down to the ground. The next thing he knows, his arms are moving above his head against his will and the rough material of rope is binding his wrists to the bark behind him. 

He struggles against the restraints to no avail. 

“Petit cygne, how naughty you’ve been.” Louis freezes, heart pounding in terror and desperation to flee. 

Rothbart comes into view then, just as looming and intimidating as ever. But he’s not alone.

An omega is with him. An omega with a similar complexion and the same dark, narrow eyes. Louis’ heart lurches. Rothbart’s son. 

Confusion and apprehension runs through him. “What is it?” he croaks, unable to maintain his usual silence that he builds up for when Rothbart comes to see him. He’s too scared- too worried. Rothbart isn’t supposed to come until next week. 

And this- the bindings, the surprise ambush, his _son_ \- none of this has ever happened before. 

Rothbart tsks. “You think you can hide from me, petit cygne?” He stalks closer, expression hardening. “You think you can hide your new _lover_ from _me?_ I _own_ you.” 

Lover. Harry. 

Louis gasps, struggling against the binds again. Rothbart knows about _Harry_. “What are you going to do?” he asks, terror bleeding into his voice. He can’t hurt Harry, he can’t-

Rothbart smiles sickeningly. “Well, I can’t have him breaking the curse, now can I?” 

“Don’t hurt him!” pleads Louis. His wrists feel raw as he pulls uselessly at him, but still he struggles. Tears fall from his eyes and he chokes back a sob. “Please don’t hurt him!”

Rothbart laughs. “I’m not going to kill him. Don’t fret, l'oiseau, even I am not so bold that I’d harm the crown prince.” He scowls. “Who knew you could seduce a prince in your state? I’m impressed.”

Louis flinches. 

“You think you’re so clever, gallivanting around and trying to break the curse,” Rothbart spits. “But I see it all, petit cygne.” 

Bile rises in Louis’ throat. “What are you going to do?’

Rothbart grins, twisted and dark. He gestures to his son who steps forward, his pink lips curving into a smirk. Rothbart raises his staff and flicks it to his son. Louis watches in growing horror as his hair changes color and his eyes flash from gray to blue. His curves fill out a bit more and his gray dress blends into a gorgeous, red gown. 

In seconds, Louis is staring at his own body and face mirrored in front of him. 

“No,” he whispers, as it dawns on him. He struggles against the ropes again, eyes burning. “Don’t do this,” he says raggedly. 

Rothbart just smiles. He turns to Louis’. “Come mon fils, we have a ball to attend.” 

“Yes, we do,” says the omega, and he sounds like Louis too. 

Louis whimpers, slumping on the ground as Rothbart and his son disappear in a bright flash. They’re going to the ball. They’re going to _Harry_. 

And the alpha has no idea. 

-

**_Present_ **

Harry approaches Louis slowly, still in disbelief at his presence. The omega beams at him when he bows and holds his hand out. Throat dry, he asks, “May I have this dance?”

Louis blushes, nodding bashfully, before placing one hand in Harry’s. Harry holds his breath, heart pounding as he leads Louis to the center of the room. He has no idea what’s happening- if he’s dreaming and he’ll wake up any second with the ghost of Louis’ smell in his mind. 

But every time he blinks, nothing changes. The warm weight of Louis’ small hand is still in his and the enchanting smell of vanilla and lavender is still enveloping him with its sweet embrace. Louis is here. But how? 

The music starts up again and the other couples fall in around them. Harry holds Louis’ hand in his and slides his other arm around Louis’ waist. “You look beautiful,” he whispers, awe in his voice. 

“So do you,” whispers Louis, placing a hand on his shoulder gently. Harry leads, unable to help but pull Louis much closer than any of the omegas he had danced with before. He feels dizzy with incredulousness and lust, eyes drooping and vision blurring. 

“How?” he asks helplessly. 

Louis leans in close, breath brushing Harry’s throat. He shudders. “Later, mon amour,” he says. “For now, we dance.” 

They dance. 

They dance for ages, lost in a world of their own. All Harry can focus on is the blue of Louis’ eyes as they gaze deep into his own. Everything else seems to fade away but the sound of his heart racing and the feeling of Louis being so close to him. 

So close to him in front of all these people. Can they see the affection and adoration in Harry’s eyes. He’s pretty sure it’s crystal clear- the way he can’t help but lean closer to the omega, aching with a need to kiss his lips or bury his nose in his scent gland. 

They’re encased in their own bubble. The prince of the kingdom dancing with the moon, a waltz of the universe. A sudden rush of affection overtakes him. 

Gods, it only takes Louis’ presence to make everything feel right again. Like he’s the key to Harry’s contentment- not that he necessarily is Harry’s only source of joy, but that he always increases that joy with even just a small smile or blush. 

Harry’s in love with him. 

No, Harry _loves_ him. 

The realization feels like the final puzzle piece fitting in place. It’s subtle yet so profound- overwhelming and all-encompassing in the best way. Ava was right. 

Gods, everyone was right. 

He loves Louis. He loves him so much. And he’s going to marry him. 

“Baby,” he whispers after twirling the omega giddily. “I have to tell you something.”

Louis’ eyes widen like he knows what’s about to happen. 

Harry’s heart races. This is it- this is where everything changes. He’s going to say the three words and save Louis. Louis who’ll never have to worry about Rothbart ever again. Harry will get to see him in the daylight, see if the sun favors him with its light just as much as the moon does. 

Unable to help himself, he leans in and presses his lips to Louis’ forehead. He pulls back just a bit, still close enough to count the freckles on Louis’ cheek and to count the stars in his eyes. He opens his mouth. 

-

**_Half an hour before_ **

Louis is sobbing. 

Loud, helpless and desperate tears as he thrashes uselessly on the ground. His wrists are so chafed, they’re bleeding. Raw and hurting, but still Louis struggles. 

He can’t help but remember how the night before, his wrists were being restrained in an entirely different way- can’t help but think of the gentle but firm grip of Harry’s hand compared to the harsh, restricting bind of the rope. The difference is intent. One is meant to subdue him- to trap him and take advantage of him, to hold him back. The other is to make him feel safe. A show of trust. A release of control to someone who cares for him. 

Harry. 

Gods, Louis can’t let him get hurt. He’s tired of being afraid, tired of letting Rothbart win by keeping him trapped here- keeping him unhopeful. He’s tired of not believing he’ll never be truly happy. He’s so tired of it. 

“Help,” he yells, still yanking helplessly on the bindings. He’s losing energy, arms sore and hanging awkwardly above him. “Please, someone, help!”

But there’s no one in the forest at this time of night. There’s no one to rescue Louis. 

So he has to rescue himself. 

He takes a deep breath, allowing himself to relax for a minute. Then he slowly tenses all his muscles, blood rushing to his head from the exertion. He gently wiggles his hands, biting down hard on his lip because, _fuck_ , it hurts. 

The ropes are tight but after nearly an hour of struggling, he’s managed to loosen them somewhat. He rotates his wrists, keeping his movements measured and controlled rather than frantic like before. When the ropes loosen up even more, be exhales with relief. 

Carefully, he maneuvers himself back onto his knees and slowly arches up, thighs shaking. He strains up, core muscles aching but he can’t reach his wrists. His mouth falls open helplessly, feeling defeated. So much for using his teeth. 

He looks around wildly, scanning for something that can help him. 

There’s a few rocks close by that Louis could probably retrieve using his feet, but he wouldn’t be able to use them effectively. Same with sticks and other forest debris. 

He sighs, heart still pounding. What if he can’t get out? 

What if Harry says those three words to Rothbart’s son and ruins Louis’ chance for salvation. Gods, what if Rothbart hurts him anyway? 

He’s drowning in his misery so irrevocably, that he almost misses the slight rustling from the brushes nearby. His heart leaps to his throat, but he crumples when his friends enter the clearing. 

_If only they could understand him_ , Louis thinks. He hesitates. 

He’s got nothing else to lose so… “Perrie!” he exclaims. “Leigh-Anne, Jesy, Jade! Please!”

Miraculously, the swans seem to listen. Or at least, acknowledge Louis’ screaming. They waddle over to him curiously, beginning to squawk loudly as they come closer. It’s almost like they seem mad on his behalf. 

“Please, please, chew through the rope,” he begs, wiggling his wrists for emphasis. He makes eye contact with Perrie. “Please, Perrie.” 

For once, the gods above take pity on him and Perrie is scrambling to his side in minutes. Louis praises the invention of long swan necks as Perrie strains up to the rope. She bites the rope, yanking backwards and shaking her head for extra effort. 

Then the others are crowding around him and doing the same. Louis sobs with relief and gratitude. Even as swans, his friends still have his back. 

The rope gives away and his arms flop uselessly to his sides. Louis hisses in pain, but he’s too determined to give up now. He jumps to his feet, shaking his arms wildly to get the feeling back in them. He stares up at the moon. It should be around midnight right now which means Louis is free for the next five to six hours. 

He takes another deep breath, and then takes off running. 

-

He’s not completely clueless as to the location of the castle but he is desperately incapable of running more than a mile to get there. 

It only takes him ten minutes before he’s panting and has to slow to a walk. His legs are aching and his arms are aching and he feels like he’s going to collapse. But Harry’s still ages away and he has to stop him from accidentally saying those words. 

He sees a beta on the side of the road, staring down at a map with his lantern with a look of bewilderment on his face. 

He has a horse. 

Louis is walking up to him immediately. “Bonsoir, Monsieur. Besoin d'aide?”

The beta startles, smiling sheepishly. “Je suis perdu.”

He swallows. “Où allez-vous?”

“J'essaye de rejoindre le palais, où je travaille comme domestique pour Lady Archambault. Je suis déjà très en retard… Votre aide me serait précieuse,” he says. Louis exhales. The palace. The castle, he’s going to the castle. 

“Et pourquoi pas plutôt nous entraider?” Louis suggests, trying to sound confident.

The beta listens as Louis explains. Then, miraculously, he nods. “C’est d’accord.”

“Merci,” Louis breathes, internally sending a prayer of thanks to the omega goddess. He allows the beta to help him onto the horse. 

They take off. 

-

**_Present_ **

“Louis,” Harry whispers, voice thick with emotion. 

The omega stares at him, anticipation and giddiness in his eyes. Harry loves him so much. 

“Ma lune, mon soleil, mon étoile - tu es mon monde entier,” he whispers. A loud commotion breaks out somewhere in the near distance but Harry doesn’t waver. Everything’s gone fuzzy except the blue of Louis’ eyes as the omega nods eagerly at him. 

Something prickles at Harry’s insides but in the next moment, it’s gone. 

“I love you,” he says, words crisp and clear. 

Louis grins, but there’s something wrong with it. It’s too twisted, almost _sinister._ Harry blinks, the blurriness of his vision sharpening abruptly. Louis steps back. He frowns. 

“No!” The cry comes from the other side of the room. 

Harry turns. 

Stops short. 

Because _Louis_ is standing across the room. Standing out in the room of ball gowns and suits, yet still so beautiful and ethereal. He’s shivering in his thin blouse and trousers, arms curled around himself protectively. There are tears staining his cheeks and raw anguish on his face. Harry’s heart drops. 

But-

He glances back at the omega he danced with, only to see in horror as he starts glowing. Louis’ features disappear and are replaced with unfamiliar hair, eyes, skin, and lips. 

It’s not Louis. 

It was never Louis at all. 

Harry gapes. He said the words. He said the words to an omega who wasn’t Louis. He fucked everything up. “No…” he says brokenly. “No, no, no. Why?”

He looks back at Louis, the _real_ Louis and falls to his knees. Louis does the same, sobbing. It takes Harry a few moments to realize that everyone else in the room has been frozen in place. Some of them with expressions of confusion or shock on their faces, others frozen mid-laugh or bite. 

His father is frozen near his throne, hand poised in a call for attention and lips pursed into a frown. His mother is frozen mid-conversation with Gemma who’s next to her. Liam is dancing with Lord Levasseur who’s stuck mid-twirl. All of them are completely motionless. 

The only ones moving are him, Louis, the imposter, and…

A slow clapping reverberates through the silent hall. Rothbart steps into view. He’s transformed from his disguise as Louis’ father. Bile rises in Harry’s throat as he realizes that Louis’ father left when he was young, which means he should have known that there was something wrong immediately. But he didn’t. He was too blinded by his shock and awe of Louis’ arrival and his beauty. 

“That was very entertaining,” says Rothbart, voice low and threatening. “Bravo, your royal highness. That whole display with my son was very charming.” 

Harry glances at the deceptive omega. His _son_. The omega smirks at him before pulling an amulet out of his pocket and snapping his fingers. He disappears in a flash. 

Of course. Of fucking course. Harry just declared his love for the son of the most vile creature on the planet. He fucked up everything. 

He turns back to Louis who is staring at him with regret and sadness, but no anger. He doesn’t look mad at all. Harry almost wishes he did- he deserves it. 

“Well, now that mon petit cygne has finally seen what happens when he tries to disobey me,” spits Rothbart. “We shall take our leave.” 

“Wait,” Harry blurts, heart racing. Determination bubbles up inside him. He’s not going to let Rothbart win. No fucking way. 

He’s not going to let him take Louis from him. Never again. 

Rothbart raises an eyebrow. “The alpha prince has something to say? Well, go on then.”

Harry steps forward, jaw locking. “Louis, come here,” he says firmly. He doesn’t look to see if he does, keeping his eyes latched on Rothbart’s. Rothbart narrows his eyes. 

“Petit cygne, _don’t_ ,” he says, voice scarily calm. 

Harry doesn’t react, biting back a smile when he catches Louis’ scent coming closer. The omega tucks himself into Harry’s side, one hand coming up to grip Harry’s shoulder. He never doubted that Louis would pick him, even at the risk of Rothbart’s wrath. Love is always stronger than fear. He slides an arm around Louis’ waist and holds him tightly. 

Then he slides the dagger he had commissioned out of his hidden coat pocket. Rothbart gapes when he takes in the sleek, black weapon. “An onyx dagger,” Harry says casually, moving it around nonchalantly to let the light glint off of it. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Rothbart grits his teeth. “Where did you get that?

Harry shrugs. “A ‘young prince’ like me has many friends in many places,” he says innocently. He had called in another favor about a week ago, and it had arrived just in time yesterday morning. His lips straighten into a hard line. “Try and take him from me, see what happens.” 

Rothbart chuckles. “Even if I can’t take him now. He’ll have to return to the forest eventually and you won’t be able to threaten me there.”

“I’ll be with him,” Harry says firmly. “I’m not leaving him alone with you ever again.” 

“You’ll leave your own ball? You’re supposed to pick your fiance tonight,” Rothbart says amusedly. “Don’t think Father will be too happy about that.” 

Harry shakes his head. “Fuck him. Fuck this entire ball. I’m not marrying any of these omegas. I don’t love them. I love Louis.” He squeezes Louis’ waist, feeling him shudder at his words. “This dagger can shatter your amethyst spirit stone with one strike, reversing every spell and curse you’ve ever cast.”

Louis gasps. 

Harry’s going out a limb. He still doesn’t know if it’s actually true but going by the way Rothbart seems to pale at the sight, he’s beginning to think it might be. 

“You want to play this game?” snarls Rothbart, eyes flashing. “Fine, let’s play this game. Try and protect him as much as possible, young alpha, but you can’t keep him safe forever. And the day you slip, I’m going to _destroy_ you.” 

Harry’s lips twitch. “Sounds fair.” 

“Harry,” Louis whispers urgently. 

“Don’t argue with me, I’m not letting him take you away,” Harry murmurs, glancing down at him fiercely.

“Not that,” Louis denies. “Just play along, okay?”

Harry furrows his eyebrows but nods slowly, curious to what Louis is going to do. 

“Rothbart, wait,” Louis says, breaking out of Harry’s hold. He stumbles forward, hands held up in surrender. 

Harry bites down hard on his lip, resisting the overwhelming urge to growl and grab Louis, pulling him away. He maintains his self-control, forcing himself to wait. He trusts Louis like Louis trusts him. 

Rothbart raises an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“I won’t go with him,” Louis says firmly. Harry’s alpha protests but he tamps it down, fists clenching. “Please, I’ll go with you with no extra complaints or misbehaving. Just as long as you don’t hurt him.” 

Rothbart scoffs. “Your alpha is going to let you do that?” 

_No fucking-_ Harry takes a deep breath, whole body shaking with the exertion of holding himself back. He trusts Louis. He trusts his omega. 

“Yes, he is,” Louis says calmly. He steps forward, closer and closer to Rothbart. Harry grits his teeth, limbs locked in place. He moves closer and closer. Rothbart follows his movements with a heavy, predatory gaze. Harry swallows down his revulsion, blood boiling. 

Louis stops right in front of the alpha, before dropping to his knees and bowing his head in a show of submission. Harry chokes back his growl. _What is he doing?_

Rothbart chuckles, cocky and assured as he looms over Louis. “This is what it takes for you to be good, isn’t it? For me to threaten your secret lover? Maybe I _should_ -” He breaks off right as Louis surges upwards and grabs his staff right from his hand. Rothbart gapes. 

Then Louis is turning and throwing it. Harry just manages to kick himself into action, rushing forward and grabbing it right as Rothbart growls and yanks Louis to his chest, sliding an arm over his neck and pressing down. 

Louis chokes, face flushing as Rothbart tightens his hold. 

Harry stills, the dagger in one hand and the staff in the other. 

“Give it back or I’ll kill him,” Rothbart threatens. He tightens his hold again to emphasize. Louis chokes, face slowly turning more and more red. Not the red Harry likes to see his face in, this red is much worse. His throat dries up and he clenches his fists. 

He doesn’t hesitate. “I’m going to kick it over,” he says quietly. He takes a deep breath, trying not to lose it. Louis needs him to be calm right now. “Let him go at the same time, or else,” he says firmly. 

Rothbart nods coldly. 

He carefully crouches down and lays the staff on the ground, standing up and positioning his foot to kick it right as the doors to the ballroom fling open with a loud _thump_. Niall and Ava barge into the ballroom, blazing and determined. 

Harry gasps as Ava raises a familiar looking staff in the air. It’s nearly identical to Rothbart’s but with a ruby inlaid in the center instead of an amethyst. Before Harry can process what exactly that means about his old friend and castle cook, she directs the weapon to Rothbart with an intense look of concentration. Muttering under her breath, she waves the staff with a deliberate flick of her wrist and a bright red light flashes through the air. 

The next thing Harry knows, Louis and Rothbart are hovering up into the air and slowly drifting away from each other. Louis heaves, face rapidly returning to its normal color now that Rothbart is out of reach. 

“Do it now!” Niall yells. Harry tightens his grip on his dagger and looks down at the staff, wasting no time before he drives it straight into the stone and shattering it with one loud _crack_.

“No!” Rothbart screams, but it’s too late.

It feels like he watches it from afar- the blade cutting through the pulsing stone and rendering it into a million purple shards. The light glowing inside of it flickers before it dies out completely. 

A bright, purple flash momentarily blinds Harry’s eyes and he squints. When his vision returns, he sees guards coming in to restrain a screaming, livid Rothbart. Niall and Ava are talking hurriedly to the head of guards who nods, astonishment on his face. 

Everyone else around him slowly regains consciousness, eyes fluttering open and limbs falling from their stuck positions. Bewilderment and shock mirror the faces of every guest as they take in their surroundings.

“Harry!” a familiar voice exclaims. Harry stiffens. Father. He turns. “What on earth just happened?” King Des asks, rubbing at his temples dazedly. His crown is askew in some twisted metaphor for the royal family. “I don’t remember anything that’s happened in the past three hours.” 

“Harry, are you alright?” his mother asks, looking just as dazed. “Who is that man?”

“Someone bad,” Harry answers vaguely. “But he won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

“What the fuck happened?” Gemma asks, holding her head and wincing. 

“Are you injured?” his mother presses worriedly.

Harry shakes his head, already scanning the room for who he really needs to see right now. “I’m fine, I promise. I’ll explain everything later.” 

“Wait, where are you going? his father asks. “Harry, if the newspapers hear of… whatever this is, they’re going to have a field day.” 

Harry takes a deep breath. “We’ll worry about that later, Father. Right now I need to see my omega,” he says firmly. He meets his father’s bewildered eyes. “I’m not getting engaged to any of the choices. I love someone else.”

“What?” His father switches from worried to livid in a heartbeat. It’s almost amusing if Harry weren’t so tired of it all. 

“Holy shit, I’m gone for three months and my baby brother finally finds someone,” Gemma says, sounding impressed. 

“I can’t talk right now Father, but we’re having a long discussion later,” Harry deflects, not in the mood. “And you’re going to listen to me this time. Because this is _my_ life and I refuse to keep letting other people dictate it, including you.”

His father stares at him, surprise on his face 

For the first time in a long time, Harry feels powerful in front of his father. He feels emboldened; _validated._ Maybe they were all right. Maybe he can fight for what he wants and, more than that, maybe he can _win_. 

His mother is smiling when Harry glances at her. “I knew you’d make the right choice all along,” she says, eyes shining. “Go ahead, darling. Me and your father will talk. I can’t wait to meet this omega of yours.”

He nods before returning his scan of the room. He sees Louis right as Louis sees him. Like magnets, they drift to each other. Harry links their hands. “You’re free,” he says. 

Louis grins. “I’m free,” he says, disbelief and pure joy seeping into his voice. “Are you?”

Harry squeezes his hands. “I am now,” he says, voice thick with relief and happiness. He tugs Louis to him, sliding an arm around his waist. This is when he notices the blood and bruises marking Louis’ wrists. His mouth drops open and panic erupts inside him. “How-”

“Rothbart,” Louis grimaces. “But it’s okay, it doesn’t hurt anymore. They’ll heal. I just want you right now.”

Harry’s blood boils, but he indulges the omega- _his_ omega- and slots their lips together. It’s chaste and innocent, Louis’ lips chapped against his, but still just as intoxicating and overwhelming as any of their other kisses. Harry breaks the kiss to leans his forehead against Louis’. “I’m not getting engaged tonight,” he says. 

“I figured that was what you meant by saying you’re free now,” says Louis, amusedly. He wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and smiles. “I love you.”

Harry smiles dopily. Tonight was a mess and there’s no way he’ll be forgetting the events that transpired for years to come. He’s sure Rothbart will be a fixed star in his future nightmares, but he knows the alpha can’t hurt them any longer. 

There's still so much Harry has to do. He’ll have to inform the guards of the extent of Rothbart’s crimes as well as let them know about his magic-wielding, potentially dangerous son. He’ll have to come to an agreement with his father and apologize to Niall for being a shitty friend and thank him for what he did tonight. Harry has to interrogate Ava on how long she’s been a fucking sorceress ( _honestly, what the fuck_?), figure out how Niall and Ava found out what was happening and thank them for intervening, and clear up everything with the omegas he’s been talking to, making sure they know it’s all over. That he’s found his own path and he won’t be needing them anymore. 

But none of them matter right now. 

“I love you so much,” he says. It feels like weight falls off of his shoulders. Louis blushes. 

“I love you too,” he says. 

For the first time in a long time, both of them are truly, finally, _free_. 

-

**Epilogue:**

**_Three years later_ **

Louis never thought he’d end up here. 

Five years ago he never would have imagined he’d ever find love for himself, let alone love with the heir to the entire kingdom who is soon to be _king_. 

And by soon to be king, Louis means that it’s February first and Harry is now officially twenty-five, which means it’s his coronation day. 

Harry’s going to be king. 

And Louis, as his omega, will be coronated as queen. 

_Queen._ Louis is going to be queen of the kingdom. He’s going to rule alongside the love of his life. 

He never thought he could be this happy. He had already greeted his mother and siblings and they’re currently seated in the front row alongside his step-father, a kind beta who his mother had met during Louis’ absence and married. 

Louis recalls their very emotional reunion with wistfulness- the relief he had felt when his mother and sisters embraced him, all of them finally remembering who he is. They had been horrified when Louis explained what had happened, and then grateful when Louis told them about Harry. 

Most of all, Louis remembers meeting his new little sister and brother, Doris and Ernest. The sadness of missing their birth was quickly overwhelmed with his sheer love and affection for the newest members of his family, of the inspiration stirred in himself for his and Harry’s own future children. 

“Alright, Lou?” asks a voice. 

He turns to see his oldest friend, Zayn. He grins. “I’m fine, just emotional.”

The omega smiles softly at him, opening his arms for a hug which Louis easily obliges. The moment he saw Zayn for the first time in two years, they both broke down in inconsolable sobs and spent hours hugging and crying and catching up on everything that happened. 

Just thinking of it brings tears to his eyes. Zayn shakes his head fondly. “We’ve got four hours of celebrations to go and you’re already crying?”

“What can I say, I’m just so emotional,” Louis says. He smiles, placing a hand on his stomach. 

Zayn tracks the movement, smirking. “I see.”

Louis flushes. “I called Sarah this morning and got it confirmed. I’m pregnant, Zaynie.”

“I’m so happy for you.” His friend pulls him into a hug which he gladly returns, burying his head in the soft material of his dress. Thank the gods he insisted on being touched up last minute or his makeup would be running.

“Oi, why aren’t we invited to this sobfest?” Perrie asks, entering the room with the rest of the girls and her fiance by her side. 

Louis grins, immediately going to hug each of his lovely friends. He hugs Perrie’s fiance too, remembering how relieved Perrie was when she found out he had never married or moved on even when he forgot her. 

“The only reason Louis’ sobbing is because he’s hormonal,” says Zayn smugly. Louis shoots him a look but it’s too late. 

“Wait, does that mean-” Jade breaks off, eyes widening. 

Leigh-Anne shrieks. “Lou, oh my gods!”

His smile stretches until it almost hurts as the girls surround him again, cooing and squealing like a bunch of excited school children. “How far along are you?” Jesy asks excitedly. 

He glances down fondly at his mostly-concealed bump, “Sarah said I’m close to a couple of months in.”

“Does Harry know?” Perrie asks.

Louis blushes, shaking his head. “I’m going to tell him later at dinner, after he’s been crowned.”

“Good thinking, if you tell him now he’ll want to drag you off-” Louis smacks Zayn’s shoulder, effectively stopping his suggestive words. 

“I can’t believe you’re going to be queen in a few hours,” says Jady with a happy sigh. 

“Are we going to have to start calling you ‘your majesty’ now?” Perrie asks, sounding amused. 

Louis shakes his head quickly. “Please don’t,” he says. Having to be referred to as ‘your highness’ or occasionally, ‘your grace’ by the general public is already strange enough. 

“Lou, darling, we need to do your makeup now- more guests are arriving!” Nessa yells from across the room. Louis nods at her before turning to his friends. 

“Go sit down, I’ll see you guys later,” he promises. “Tell my family that Harry and I will see them after.” 

They nod and wish him good luck before leaving. 

Louis takes a deep breath, his nerves returning in waves now that he’s alone again. 

He lets Nessa usher him into a chair and starts fussing over his eyes, brushing shimmering blue eyeshadow over his lids and applying some eyeliner as well. Louis blinks at the mirror, admiring the way the makeup enhances his eye color. 

He thinks about how if Harry were here, he’d make a joke about he won’t be able to concentrate during the ceremony if Louis is going to stand there looking so pretty and sweet. 

His heart aches. Gods, he misses Harry. It’s only been a few days since he’s seen the alpha as per customary tradition for the coronating couple and unfortunately, this is one of the traditions Harry has been adamant about not changing. 

They’ve definitely changed plenty of others over the past few years. They were married at twenty-three during the summer instead of the fall. They decided to wait for kids on their own time instead of submitting to the pressures of the kingdom. 

And Louis himself has distinguished himself from past omega consort expectations: pursuing a career as an artist, starting a royal garden to feed the less fortunate and then participating in the actual maintenance of said garden, and getting involved with council meetings alongside his husband. 

Over the past few years, they’ve faced many struggles as a couple both from themselves and from others, but they’ve faced them every single one together. And today they’ll ascend the throne together, side by side. 

So much has changed since their nights at Swan Lake, except for their love. Their world has just expanded since then. No longer just Harry and him, but an entire kingdom around them. 

And soon, a young pup right at the heart. 

“Ready, Lou?” Nessa asks softly, straightening his dress straps. He’s wearing a midnight blue gown with a golden threaded bodice embellished with stars that continue down his skirt like the night sky. His bump is barely visible in the fabric but he requested the waist to be loosened slightly just in case. Around his neck is the gold moon courting necklace Harry gave him the day they got engaged. 

He nods. “I’m ready.”

-

In the end, the ceremony progresses perfectly. Harry is first, kneeling before the podium as King Des gives the customary speech for passing on the crown to a new generation. There’s pride in the older alpha’s eyes as he finally sets the crown on Harry’s head. 

His and Harry’s relationship went through many struggles after Harry decided he wasn’t going to let other people dictate his life, but today it’s clear King Des, soon to be Prince Des, is looking down on his son with love and satisfaction. 

And then it’s Louis' turn. 

According to Orceilan tradition, the newly crowned king will enthrone the new queen, so it’s Harry that Louis is focused on as he walks down the aisle. It feels all too much like their wedding especially when he sees his husband’s eyes go all misty as he grins lovingly.

Louis is grinning himself as he stops at the top of the steps, the train flaring out gracefully behind him. His heart is racing wildly, but when his eyes meet those lovely green ones he’s fallen deeply in love with years ago, everything slows down. 

He inhales deeply as Harry begins reciting the proper speech for the queen’s ascension. Never once does his eye contact waver from Louis. They’re grinning at each other like idiots but neither can help it. Louis hasn’t seen his alpha in three days and the urge to barrel into him is growing by the second. 

Finally, Harry straightens up, lifting the crown from Queen Anne’s head and kissing her on the cheek chastely before turning back to Louis. Louis sinks to a knee and ducks his head, shivering when he feels the solid weight settle in his hair. 

Harry’s gentle fingers linger for a moment before drawing away. And then he’s offering a hand to Louis who takes it easily, allowing himself to be pulled up and into Harry’s side. 

A kiss is pressed to his temple as cheers erupt from the audience. A chant of, “Long live the king! Long live the queen! Long live Orciela!” emerges from somewhere near the back. Louis recognizes Niall’s face among Harry’s other alpha friends and nudges Harry slightly. 

Harry chuckles, pressing another, longer kiss to Louis’ temple. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Louis repeats, turning to hide his grin on Harry's shoulder and uncaring of the possibility of smudging his makeup. The feeling of a crown on his head is foreign and strange, but he knows he’ll get used to it. 

Harry curls an arm around his waist tightly. “You look stunning, ma lune.”

Louis blushes. Some things never change. “Stop it,” he complains, now trying to hide his flushed cheeks. Harry smirks and he pinches the alpha in the ribs. “You look beautiful too,” he whispers. 

“Thank you, baby,” Harry says smugly. 

_Baby_. Louis, once again, can’t help but place a hand over his stomach, giddy with the knowledge that Harry’s going to be ecstatic when he finds out. 

They walk hand in hand down the aisle again, surrounded by people on all sides. Anne and Des are behind them as the tradition goes, then Gemma and Michal in the back along with their young daughter. To the right, Louis can see his mother, sisters, brother, stepfather, and all his friends. Zayn winks at him and Perrie whistles loudly when they see him looking. Niall, Liam, and Harry’s friends are to the left, along with Richard who Harry seems very keen about showing his crown off to later. 

Dame Ava is in the back, dressed in her ambassador robes which she’s worn (along with her new title) ever since she was dubbed Royal Ambassador of Magic, in charge of dealing with relations between those with magic and those without. After the curse, it became increasingly obvious that the royal family had to spread awareness and regulate the use of magic to prevent injustice such as what Louis had been forced to undergo. 

Ava is the perfect sorceress for the job. 

Dinner is served in the castle, food being offered to everyone no matter their status or attendance. Harry and Louis sit at a table with their families and Louis slowly becomes more and more impatient to spill the news as the night wears on. 

“Darling, is everything okay?” Harry asks during dessert. He grips the side of Louis’ chair and tugs it closer to him. Louis huffs at the display of strength, choosing not to comment on it and stroke the alpha’s ego. Gods know, he gets enough of that in the bedroom. 

“Everything’s perfect,” Louis murmurs back, unable to stop his grin. 

Harry narrows his eyes. “Are you sure? You look a little faint.”

Louis shakes his head. It’s barely the end of his first trimester and already their pup is leeching off all of Louis’ energy, but he can’t really complain. He wants them to be as strong and healthy as possible. “I’m just tired.”

“Do you want us to retire early?” whispers Harry. He leans in close, radiating soothing pheromones. Louis inhales the comforting scent of pine and apples, wondering distantly what their pup will present as- an alpha, an omega, or even a beta. 

Louis shakes his head. “I have something to tell you,” he confesses, giving up on any thoughts of stalling a bit longer. 

Harry looks curious as Louis leans in close. “Yeah, baby?” 

Louis grins. He leans in closer, breath tickling Harry’s earlobe. “Guess what?”

“What?” Harry asks softly, lips curving into a fond smile. 

He grabs the alpha’s free hand gently and presses it to his abdomen softly. “Your baby is having a baby.” 

It takes a moment for the words to settle in the air. When they do, Harry goes rigid, jaw slackening in shock. He peers at Louis with a look of awe and love on his face. “Lou, baby, is it true?” 

Louis grins widely again. “Alpha, we’re having a pup.” 

A single tear falls from Harry’s eyes as he yanks Louis into his lap, squeezing the life out of him unashamedly. 

“Gods, get a room,” Gemma complains, and Louis’ sisters snicker. When Harry and Louis separate, they turn to see their entire family staring at them confusedly. 

Harry clears his throat, voice thick and deep as he announces to their family, “Louis’ pregnant.” 

Jay and Anne burst into tears, Gemma screams, and Louis’ siblings immediately get up to demand more information. Louis cries happy tears. 

Harry holds his hand the entire time, leaning in with a look of pure yearning on his face. “Remember when you told me that the moon was like the mother of all stars?”

Louis nods, throat dry. 

“Ma chérie lune, nous allons avoir une petite étoile,” Harry whispers. 

In seven months, their small world is going to get a little bigger. 

Louis wouldn’t have it any other way. 

-

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know Louis is the sun, but in this story, he’s the moon because the moon is more relevant to the story. 
> 
> Title is from ‘A World Alone’ by Lorde
> 
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> 
> Feel free to reach out or say hi! And if you liked this fic, please consider leaving kudos and commenting. If you have any further questions about the world or story because you're curious, feel free to ask those as well!


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